Because at the end
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: The peregrinations of Karen and Stanley's failed marriage. Thank you, Miss H...
1. Prologue

**_Because at the end…_**

She approached her hand and the flame began to dance, suddenly trapped into the nets of the air. Her pale complexion seemed to glimmer under the reddish color of the ribbon of fire which light emphasized the lines of her palm, the prints of her fingers. She leaned over as the soft illusion spread to her whole face and with the rest of the room. Plunged in the dark she looked like an angel, a fallen one. She blew out the candle in a furtive gesture, silently; then let the obscurity rock her sorrow as pearls of tears started running down her cheeks.

_Merry Christmas, Karen_

She had never been able to explain her stubbornness towards Stanley; the reason why she had worked so hard to make him abdicate before her charms, her whims. She wasn't a novice, had already married twice before; always rich men who thought that love could be brought thanks to a couple of millions sagely sleeping behind a steel security door at some powerful bank with an unpronounceable name. They were nice, in their own way; attentive or at least they thought so. Had she really expected something different from him? Had she been blinded by a hopeful love? Unless it had nothing to do with beautiful feelings; it was more about the temptation to steal a man from another woman's arms just to prove to herself that her seduction skills were efficient.

Ten years; he had said yes after ten years. She had got the big wedding that conventions imposed, no matter the light murmurs behind her back for being the second wife. How many men did accept to marry their mistresses at the end? They were as rare as bottles of Petrus 1914, perhaps not as precious though. Stanley belonged to them. She wasn't that young anymore and she had left so many things behind but he hadn't dropped her out. She had become Karen Walker in the fragile dream of imminent changes and it had made her happy…

Her hazel eyes scanned the library plunged in the dark where the tinsels on the tree sparkled loosely in the center of the room. She had spent a lot of time decorating it with Rosario, enveloping the large green branches of multicolored candy canes, lovely ribbons. She had a thing for traditions at the end, probably because she had never had the chance to fully live any of them as a kid.  
The house was quiet and she could hear the wind blow against the windows like old Christmas carols that lonely souls would have been whispering. It made her shiver, cross her arms against her chest. She put down the candle on the console, over a pile of books then narrowed her eyes.

She had been happy, yes; once.

For some reason she made a few steps back towards the answering machine and pressed for the the same button thousandth time. His voice filled with the room with a disturbing note of regret that she had heard so many times that it had lost any kind of effect but rage; a controlled one.

"Karen, honey, it's Stanley. I know I had said that we would be together for Christmas Eve as Olivia and Mason were staying at their mother's place but I'm afraid I have to cancel it. I'm sorry. It looks like the Sherman Project is going to take a lot more time. I can't leave Chicago like that. Besides there's a snow storm here and flying to New York isn't the safest idea. I'm sure you don't want any tragic twist. Have fun though and I wish you a merry Christmas. A courier is going to stop by. It's your present and my biggest apologies for not being with you tonight. Take care, sweetie."

She knew it by heart now and had highlighted every single aspect of it; from how he hadn't said that he loved her to the time it had taken him to say it all, not even a whole minute. She grabbed the necklace resting in the opened gift box that a guy from UPS had delivered a couple of hours earlier when she was still sober enough to make a distinction between people and the walls. She looked at the pearls in the dark as her breath became louder and in a fit of rage she threw it on the floor, breaking it into pieces. The carpet absorbed the sound of the violent fall and she left the room immediately; rushed to the kitchen, widely opening every single cupboard but there was nothing left. She had drunk them all. She thought for a second to go down at the first deli she would find on her road but the weight of her wedding ring set off an alarm in her head.

She straightened herself up in her expensive dress and walked back slowly to her bedroom. She turned the lights on and sat down on the immense bed, staring at the table a bit absent-mindedly. She felt dizzy, thirsty and empty. She settled on the mattress before opening a chest of drawers. It was still wrapped in tissue paper, a deep red one. She took it out slowly, the rustling filling the room of a shrieking sound. She pushed aside the paper and caressed the small angel. It was made of cotton, all white; so pure. The sleeves were embroidered with gold patterns while her name appeared on the chest of the character; with matching thread.

It had nothing to do with the grandiloquence of the most expensive diamonds but it nonetheless won over them for its sincerity; the attention of the gesture.

_It might be the lucky charm of all these things we don't dare to say out loud; our friendship. _

He had given one to Grace and Jack too with their respective names embroidered like the prelude of the presents they were all supposed to get from their relatives later in the evening, the next morning. She had had nothing but a pitiful excuse bought at Tiffany's; and the white cotton angel from Will.

_Merry Christmas, Karen_

He had leaned over and hugged her awkwardly; buried his face in her neck, murmuring into her ear.

_I would pick you up at any time; just call me._

He knew Stanley and his last-minute cancellations way too well; because at the end, Karen always found herself so lonely.

She didn't call him though, simply fell asleep long after the last wave of alcohol stopped blurring her mind and all the pain she was suffering rushed back with a quiet violence.


	2. The Walkers

**_Chapter one_**

Will came back from the kitchen and observed Karen for a moment. She was conversing with Grace at the table, a glass of wine in hands. Her eyes were sparkling with delight, her cheeks all red; her voice so warm under her eloquent gestures. She was wearing a knee-length black dress as her hair, up in a bun, highlighted the diamonds embracing her earlobes in a sober elegance. She knew how to take advantage of her curves, the paleness of her complexion but what made her distinctive from the others was that she hadn't had to learn. It was a natural grace that she had inherited and it made her unique, singular, irresistibly charming.

A comment from George made her laugh. She leaned her head backwards, taken away by the sudden joy stirred up in her before smiling brightly, adjusting the fork next to her plate in a pointless gesture. Will looked down but didn't say a word. His mother arrived and put an end to his _rêverie_. He sat down in front of the millionaire and kept on pretending all along. After all she managed it perfectly when she was the first one concerned so why would he not do the same?

He knew how it worked; how behind a faint smile the tears were running in silence over a disappointed heart because at the end all she was asking for was a kiss, a hug, the least sign of care, some attention but Stanley never did. She had married a shadow who thought that love could be bought at a high price and substitute the warmness of a physical presence. It belonged to the contract she had signed so she wasn't in measure to complain about previously exposed facts.

She had probably been ready by ten even though he had said that he would pick her up around eleven. A delightful impatience had woken her up early in the morning and like the little girl she had been once, she had rushed out of bed, anticipating the moment her loneliness would fly away and she would start savoring the magic of Christmas day. She had climbed in the car with a radiant smile playing on her lips and Will had immediately understood how harsh the last hours must have been. They had left Manhattan in a friendly atmosphere but deep inside, the attorney had guessed everything from Karen's sorrow to the absence of Stanley.

Like most of the people he had never had the slightest idea about the invisible tension between the millionaire and her husband until he became their attorney and the doors of their private life opened to him. Of course she didn't hesitate to criticize Stanley in front of her friends but she always used a note of humor so she didn't let any chance to approach a whole different truth, at any moment. She was just kidding, amused by the day-to-day life ruled by marriage. Who could have guessed about her latent pain?

He had stopped by one evening in the perspective to get some signatures down on a contract. Rosario had opened the door and let him wander through the endless corridors with the only indication that her employers were in the other aisle of the mansion; probably in the library. The door had been pushed ajar and he would have never made a step forward if he hadn't heard some noise coming from the room in question because apart from the stifled voice, the lights hadn't been turned on and there was no evidence of a mere presence. His fingers had brushed the doorframe and he had poked his head inside.

The light from the corridor had traced a path inside the room, lighting up Karen huddled up on the sofa. He had narrowed his eyes, taken aback by the situation, confused somehow.

"Karen, is that you?"

She had jumped and stood up in a rush, straightening her clothes; swallowing back her sobs with the rapidity of shameful behaviors. He had turned the lights on and seen nothing but her puffy eyes and the paleness of her face devastated by sadness.

Of course she could cry, like anyone; no matter that she never showed the slightest sign that led to such idea and for a couple of seconds he had felt bad for staring at her in disbelief as if she were some wild beast when obviously she had never looked so weak and human.

Something had broken that night and strengthened their relationship like only the heaviest secrets look after. She had signed the papers, tended the pen back to Will and excused herself in a mumble of incomprehensible apologies for the mess she was. She had offered him a drink; he hadn't dared to refuse even though his presence obviously embarrassed her more than anything else and his eyes on her, hypnotized by her own devastation, a persistent and incongruous stare over her state. She had sat down on an old leather armchair, letting him have the couch then looked blankly at her glass of Brandy before shrugging, smiling desperately at her unexpected guest.

"It's our fifth wedding anniversary, today."

The remark had slid along a fragile tone of voice, almost imperceptible as if she didn't believe her own words or she had come to an intimate conclusion a while earlier that had ruined something that only her mind could have understood.

"Congratulations; you should be celebrating then."

"It was planned but he had a last-minute important meeting and…"

The rest of her spontaneous sentence had disappeared under the rules and conventionalisms of high society. The husbands were businessmen without whom the way of life they used to lead wouldn't be able and before the addicting presence of money the wives couldn't but stay quiet and accept politely, sagely, like little porcelain dolls, the lonely schedules of their evenings.  
She had frowned and shaken her head before wincing at Will. She had come closer to him and taken his hand, pressing it tightly.

"Don't be worried, honey. I'm not a novice."

_But you still do have feelings. _He had nodded a bit aimlessly, put an end to the parenthesis of Karen's difficult compromises then never spoke about it again. He hadn't forgotten though but before the pride of the millionaire, he had simply decided to go through it with subtlety, stopping by from to time with great alibis, excellent pretexts.

After all he was an attorney so he knew very well, just how to make people trust him.


	3. A matter of rhythm

**_Chapter two_**

She pulled open the window and closed her eyes as the fresh air of the morning, invigoratingly embraced her face. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs in a slow motion and the process set off. Her heart seemed to slow down, the weight on her shoulders vanish. She could barely notice the noises of the street anymore. She was off, so far; protected by a thousand of warm images and the sweet sensation that it might exist somewhere else than only in her mind.

It was still very early in the morning but the pale blue light of the sky didn't leave a lot of hopes about the temperatures of the day. It would be cold, gray, almost dark as if the recent-celebrated new year was still too shy to show its real charms. But she liked the way it was, no matter the monotony of the weeks or the coldness of the nights. It matched with so many things about her life, especially her so-called relationship to Stanley.

After the deception of Christmas Eve she had made it clear in her head because basing everything on eventualities always owned a dose of danger that most of the times ended up hurting her. She had gone out with Grace, Will and Jack, not at all thinking about him until she had come back home and known that he would have cancelled anyway when she had found their bed untouched around five in the morning. She didn't like being suspicious, though while taking a shower before going to sleep that night she had wondered what kind of people spent New Year's Eve on a professional meeting when they did have a family to care about.

"Karen, you know my opinions about drugs."

The dark-haired woman jumped at the sound of her name and turned her face around; blinking at Grace who had arrived in the office without her noticing it at all, showing how lost she had been in her thoughts. The interior designer bit into a donut and frowned.

"Are you high? Since when do you open the window in the middle of January and do some kind of meditation?"

"Why since my expatriation to Tibet, of course; you know, back in the seventies."

Her high heels hit the floor loudly as she came back to her desk and sat down in the purest indifference as if her remark belonged to a total logic, a fact as evident as the act of breathing. It took Grace aback who didn't insist. What did she know about the millionaire anyway? From time to time the brunette did let a detail come out but some things seemed to be so incongruous that you couldn't help wondering if it was all true.

The red-haired woman took off her coat and leafed through the last sketches she had worked on but Karen's voice stopped her.

"Have you anything planned for tonight? You could come to my home…"

The answer had slid on her lips in a soft murmur of embarrassment and the millionaire was now looking desperately for a false activity to hide the red that had invaded her cheeks. The truth was that since she had gone over at Grace's place once, she had wished nothing more than doing it again. It reminded her of adolescence and the closeness of friendships that she hadn't had the chance to know for moving out constantly. She might have already married three times and dangerously started flirting with her fortieth birthday but she had felt so light that evening, so happy.

Besides she didn't want to live another lonely evening.

Grace locked her eyes with her friend's and smiled.

"I will gladly come over at the manse tonight if it's what you're suggesting."

The gesture flew away in a wave of imperceptibility as Karen scoffed almost immediately and grabbed an issue of Vanity Fair that was resting on the top of a pile of magazines.

"Well don't even think this is a date or something. I don't make out with people who dare to wear such an awful outfit."

She came back home with the effervescence of a sudden rejuvenated joy, carrying on brown bags full of junk food and booze from the deli. She put it down in the kitchen and hurried upstairs to the master bedroom in order to change her clothes; perhaps take a bath too.

The door flew open and she began to smile but froze all of a sudden before the scene she was witnessing. Stanley was home while it was only six in the evening, in the middle of the week. The mere image of her husband wandering through their home while the night hadn't completely fallen down over New York yet was enough to stir up a rainbow of warm feelings in her heart, for it being so rare; but she didn't understand why he was emptying his closet, meticulously folding his clothes in suitcases. He never did it by himself when he was off for some business trip. Rosario always helped him.

"What are you doing, honey?"

Her voice had never sounded so weak. She was shaking, her hands icy and her mouth so dry. She was in panic. He couldn't be leaving her, could he?

"I'm just moving to the guest bedroom. I don't want to wake you up late in the night when I come back from the office. We don't have the same rhythm."

He zipped his last bag, passed a hand around her waist and kissed her temple; wincing at her before leaving for the other aisle of the mansion. She looked blankly at the space in front of her for a couple of minutes, unable to make the slightest move. Separate bedrooms; she swallowed hard as the realization slowly made its way to her brain. She turned on her heels and narrowed her eyes before the corridor, still picturing Stanley walking out. Her tears stifled her voice in a whisper of pain.

"But the only rhythm I have is supposed to be you."


	4. New Jersey

**_Chapter three_**

Of course a limpid blue sky and a soft breeze were the most favorable conditions to go there but some days Karen simply felt like walking barefoot on the deck as the little puddles of water caressed her skin and sent shivers to her spine in some harmonious motion with a couple of feelings that old memories were strongly nourishing. She needed a place where her problems would vanish for a couple of hours; where everything would seem so easy and well used, appropriate. Even if she didn't hoist anything, didn't sail towards the secret areas she had learned to know like the bottom of her heart.

She left the mansion in the early morning, forcing herself not to focalize on the corridor that led to Stanley's bedroom. She hadn't seen him for such a long time that she had come to wonder if he was still alive, still a resident of this immense house. She grabbed a backpack and closed the door quietly behind her. The streets were deserted as a fine rain was falling down over New York. It was cold and gray; a typical weather that tended to plunge you in a warm and comfortable laziness but she had other plans, unexpected ones. She hailed a cab and disappeared towards the other side of the city.

She took off her sneakers before climbing on the deck and throwing her bag on a side. Seagulls flew over her head. She looked up, narrowing her eyes before the light of the day and smiled at the majestic birds and their so peculiar call. She zipped up her yellow raincoat, put on the hood and went back to work. She had a lot of things to do.

She wasn't at Jack's and the penthouse of The Upper East Side was empty apart from the usual staff, the flicker of maids. Will sighed and looked all around as if the solution was about to hit his mind coming straight from the corner of Madison Avenue. His hands tightened their grip on the briefcase he was holding; he frowned. Where could she have gone to? For the hundredth time he grabbed his cell phone and dialed her number but the answering machine set off immediately. In a gesture of frustration he started walking back towards Midtown, anxious before his reaction when he happened to read Stanley's wills, ashamed for the role he was playing in this story.

He was about to bite into his smoked salmon bagel when his phone rang and the little envelop appeared on the screen with Karen's name under it. He took it and opened the message.  
_Meet me at Pier 99; look for the smallest one_

The attorney frowned, confused by the millionaire's mysterious message. He wasn't in the mood for some game at all; certainly not after what Stanley had faxed him. He grabbed his coat, swearing between his teeth and headed to Manhattan to Karen's incongruous place.

The yachts were forming a row of whiteness where elegance could barely find its way among the decadence of money. He made a few steps forward and stopped when the Walkers' yacht appeared but the boat seemed to be as empty as the mansion he had visited in the morning.

"Wilma, is this the smallest one?"

Karen's voice made him jump. He leaned his head on a side and looked on his left where a sailboat was moored. The dark-haired woman was standing there up right on her feet in a pair of old jeans and blue navy shirt; her yellow raincoat unzipped. She was going barefoot, the pants rolled up over her ankles and she was looking at him with the most exasperated face; her hands firmly clutched to her hips.

For some reason Will's eyes focalized on the pale skin of her ankles and the anchor tattooed on the right one. As much as he knew that the millionaire was full of surprises, he would have never come to think that he would witness her as a sailor one day. She moved quickly towards him with a disconcerting easiness. He threw his briefcase on the deck and climbed on, coming to a face-to-face with Karen. She smirked at him, amused.

"You're not going to be sick, are you?"

After some steerage that sounded incomprehensible for Will but a piece of cake for her, she sat down next to him; smiling. She seemed to be having a blast. Her eyes were sparkling and the features of her face had adopted a mysterious lightness. The attorney looked at his briefcase for a couple of seconds and he felt his heart crack. She noticed it and cleared her voice before sighing.

"What does he want, honey?"

He blinked, a bit taken aback by her guess. He passed his tongue over his dry lips and locked his eyes with her hazel ones.

"He wants to modify your prenuptial contract."

Karen nodded. She didn't need more explanations. She knew how it worked; she wasn't a novice anymore at this little game.

"Would you like a little time sailing along The Hudson?"

He looked at her going from a sail to another, dealing with an extreme facility all around. She sat back next to him and smiled brightly.

"My dad was a good sailor. He taught me everything when I was five or six."

The confession surprised him but Will saw it as an occasion to know a bit more about Karen and he took advantage of it. She was opening her heart; he couldn't miss it out.

"What did he die of?"

"He had a heart attack. We found him laid down in the backyard but way too late."

She looked down and blushed. She always felt ashamed while speaking about her past as if her life was just an embarrassing thing that weighed a lot on her shoulders. All of a sudden they approached the coast and she pointed at a small house that looked like an English cottage.

"This is where I spent my first years. I was born in New Jersey, yes… We stayed there until… Until he died; then the mess began."

Will didn't say a word. He looked at the house vanish behind them, avoiding Karen's gaze on him as much as he could. What was she expecting from him, a hug, comforting words? He gave her the exact opposite.

"Why don't you ask for a divorce?"

She smiled peacefully, not at all surprised.

"We don't get a divorce in the high society, honey. We just close our eyes over infidelity because silence is a lot less painful than a ruined reputation."


	5. February, 14th

**_Chapter four_**

The world seemed to have stopped all of a sudden. The cars had parked in the middle of the streets, the waves had ceased their languorous movements, the birds were resting on branches and everyone was holding his breath before dying little by little under the vehemence of a painful truth. A drop of water fell on her bare shoulder. She shivered as the cold liquid took possession of her skin but didn't move. She couldn't. As much as she would have loved concentrating on a distinctive spot, her hazel eyes were hypnotized by the little silver squares lined on the coffee table.

They didn't use any, for whatever reason. As a matter of fact, they had never spoken about it as if their wedding bands had settled down on it and put an end to an eventual conversation. But they were his. She had found them in the depths of his pockets while looking for his Blackberry that was ringing. Her fingers clutched the air in a nervous motion. She still could feel the sharp corners of the thick papers that had brushed her flesh when she had made contact with them. It was burning, tearing her heart in an atrocious silence.

She tightened her silky bathrobe around her frame; bit her lips but she failed and started crying. How come it never worked out? She leaned her forehead on the palm of her hand, sobbing in silence. Her back was moving under her stifled cries and she felt so empty, so lonely and cold.

"Karen, are you there?"

Jack's voice sounded loud in the corridor. Karen stood up immediately and put Stanley's condoms under a cushion then wiped away her tears with the back of her hand as her friend came in. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her, studying her whole body meticulously. His hand landed on his hip and he pouted.

"Take out your contact lenses, Karen. Your eyes are all puffy and red. It might be the color of the day but too many things matching ruin the matching magic!"

She took off her bathrobe and headed in her lingerie towards her closet while a bright smile was playing on her lips.

"You're right, honey. But you know me, I'm such a romantic lady."

She looked at Jack's hand going through her hair in a distinguish sweetness. Her features got warmer as the actor caught her gaze in the mirror but none of them spoke. They liked being quiet while getting prepared for some event. It was all about light touches, shy smiles and a profusion of tenderness that would have made the slightest person green with envy for having feelings for one of them. Her eyes got lost in an absent-minded contemplation as her thoughts took her away. Stanley had never been jealous. Should she have seen it as a sign? Obviously his intentions had never been so pure if they hadn't broken into pieces.

She let her friend grab her hand while she stood up. She was wearing a deep red ankle-length dress with ruby earrings and a matching bracelet. Her hair had been put up while some curled strands were loosely falling around her face. Her makeup was subtle, as usual. Jack leaned over, standing behind her, and kissed her cheek.

"You look divine."

The limousine stopped in front of the building of Stanley's office and he climbed in it. She turned her face in the opposite direction, pretending to be contemplating the streetlights of New York. None of them said the slightest word until they arrived at the mansion where the party was held. He placed the palm of his hand on her lower back to guide her inside but she couldn't help shivering under his touch. She felt like throwing a fit, slapping him hard in the face then kissing him roughly; running away before apologizing and begging him for his pardon when he was the only one to blame in the story.

The rooms were large, decorated in a refined style. Numerous guests were going from one group to another, barely paying attention to the discussions for it being a second-plan interest; a sort of background, a gray wallpaper. The only important thing was to be seen, to be looked at and admired.

Stanley offered her a glass of Champagne before vanishing in the crowd and she found herself alone, feeling so small; completely lost. She managed to find her way towards the lounge where someone was playing piano. All she wanted was to sit down for a while and forget all the rest thanks to the blurry charms of alcohol and her latent sadness.

"Is the Queen of Loneliness back?"

She looked up and smiled at Will before making some room on the couch so that he might sit down next to her. A couple of hours had passed by unless it was only a few minutes. She wouldn't have been able to say but the time always seemed to last longer when the pain was harsh. She didn't turn her face and kept on contemplating at the pianist in a melancholic way. She was drunk but not even enough to put a parenthesis around the rest of her life for the evening.

"What are you doing here, honey?"

"I'm looking after you. I'm your guardian angel."

His voice sounded soft, calm and mysterious. She locked her eyes with his and frowned, troubled by his answer but all she came to face was a bright smile. He winced.

"I'm honoring the contract I have signed with your husband. Apparently I'm supposed to be here for business."

"If he said so…"

Karen looked back at the musician while a wave of bitterness was going slowly up to her throat to prevent the air from passing to her lungs and her heart remained behind; hurt, lacking oxygen.

"So what did Stanley offer you today?"

The dark-haired woman burst out laughing but it sounded false. She passed her tongue over her lips and raised her eyebrows then turned back at Will. She smiled and shook her head.

"He cheated on me and probably still is."

Will restrained a gasp but his features froze under his friend's remark. He had seen it come, as well as Karen but for some ridiculous reason he had hoped he was just misunderstanding a couple things. He looked at the millionaire then above her head where, like looking after her, two cupids were holding hands, walking on a floor made of roses and the message next to it, written in gold: happy Valentine's day.

He stared back at Karen.

It had never sounded so ironic.


	6. In Will's arms

**_Chapter five_**

Karen passed the door and looked around aimlessly. She felt dirty, heavy and cold. The furniture seemed to have lost their so cozy attitude unless it was her and her so-called sentiment of belonging to somewhere that had vanished as soon as she had entered the state building. She still had in mind the clicking of the keys and the stifled steps, the taste of metal and the smell of detergent that inhabited the walls, passing through the clothes, underneath the skin and reaching the bones. She might have spoken once about vague troubles she had had but the look on her face right now clearly indicated that she had been joking all along because she was definitely not prepared for jail and even less to see her husband out there but she had had no choice and her first visit would remain engraved in her brain like the madness of devilish voices resounding loud all around.

She sat down on the couch while a blank gaze came to darken her hazel eyes. She didn't dare to move, slightly speak. She just didn't feel right. Will was going on, feeding himself with the energy she was letting fly away and for a couple of seconds she envied his capacity to put it all aside until she realized that it was just a façade. Grace and Jack weren't there and the flat seemed empty, almost lifeless in spite of the attorney's efforts to fill the silence of absurd and superficial remarks that nonetheless started working out. She smiled at him before heading to the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of wine and poured some in two glasses. She had to forget everything, if only for a couple of hours.

She dreaded it more than anything. As soon as they set the table and bit into the rice, she kept an eye on the door, thinking about the moment she would have to leave and face all the ridiculousness of her life; an unfaithful husband in jail and the fakeness of her smiles before an imposed support settled down by a prenuptial contract.

"You can stay here if you want to. Grace's not here and I would gladly have to have some company."

A bitter smile played on her lips. She wasn't stupid; he had guessed everything, her shameful distress before a shooting loneliness. She twisted her hands, shrugged and nodded.

"Yes, I might do that. You're right, honey."

She buttoned the blouse she had borrowed from Will very slowly as the paleness of her chest was disappearing little by little behind the pink cotton. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and sighed. She had no makeup on, her hair was flat and for having taken off her contact lenses she had to narrow her eyes to see her face properly. She looked old all of a sudden, fragile. She quickly turned the lights off and left the bathroom.

She didn't make it to Grace's bed. Something prevented her from doing it. As much as she was studying it with attention, her feet seemed to have been swallowed by the hardwood floor and so she turned her back at it then closed the door behind her; crossing the hallway.

He was reading in bed when she poked her head inside and smiled timidly at him. He looked up and pulled down the blanket so that she could sit down next to him.

"Do you want to read something?"

He tended a magazine to her. She pretended to read while in fact she couldn't see a single thing but there was no way for her to wear glasses in front of Will, no matter how blurry the words were. She caught their reflection in the mirror opposite the bed. They looked like an old couple. It was sweet but quite bitter when she realized that she had never lived it with Stanley. The attorney finally turned off the lights and they found themselves in the dark, not daring the slightest move until Will finally opened his arms and let her cuddle in. They fell asleep.

The light of the sun woke her up the next morning. She opened her eyes slowly and looked in silence at her friend who was wide awake next to her. He was staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. She moved a little and he turned his head towards her, smiling.

"Good morning."

By automatism she dragged herself to his arms and buried her face in his neck before closing her eyes and enjoying someone's heat against her in the first hours of the day. She had missed it so much. Will didn't say a word but started stroking her hair peacefully, letting the torpor of the singular night fade away. She smiled.

They had never showed such tenderness towards each other; not that they doubted its existence but it was like the sharp circumstances had pushed them to do so and they were there, in bed, listening to the quiet morning pass by.

Will froze as the millionaire's lips made contact with his shoulder, going up slowly to his ear in a trail of light kisses. Her hand was heading to his lower stomach, a subtle caress over his body. She vaguely leaned up on her elbow to concentrate on her ministrations as she arrived on his jaw. What was she doing while kissing him like that? He got tensed under her touch, responding to her quietly and so she didn't stop. Her fingers brushed his inner thigh; she captured the corner of his mouth, so soft. She could feel his breath on her skin and the reassuring presence of his hand on her back; the taste of his lips. She broke apart the half-kiss, just a few inches away before leaning forward to a less chaste one. He pushed her away, grabbing her shoulders firmly.

"Karen, what are you doing?"

She locked her eyes with his. He looked confused. She frowned, pleading him for it. She needed the heat of an embrace, the sentiment to be cared about and loved if only for a couple of minutes; no matter how false it was. Will's hand went up her back, sending shivers of anticipation to her spine before his fingers resting on her nape and he pulled her towards him. They could already feel each other's lips when the phone rang, imposing back a harsh reality.

"Excuse me."

Without glaring at her, the attorney got up to take the call. She remained still, staring blankly at his side of the bed left empty. What had she done? She was lost, angry and ashamed before Stanley's troubles that one more time only tended to humiliate her when she didn't need it at all. When the FBI agents had stepped into the office, she had felt the world fall down as a wave of incomprehension had set off in her heart. Why did her husband keep on doing that to her? Did he even realize what she had to face, and how? It wasn't fair at all. She shook her head and went straight to the bathroom. Her situation might have been sad though it wasn't a reason either to use her friends as she had been about to do. They didn't have to get implied like that; she wasn't allowed to take advantage of them.

The first drops of the shower hit her face as her lips moved in silence for a wave of apologies towards Will who had come back to his bedroom and was staring, overwhelmed, at the door she had closed behind her.


	7. A missed birthday

**_Chapter six_**

"Are you happy?"

Karen looked up at Grace and vaguely nodded as a timid smile played on her lips. She felt like she was back to the day of her wedding, waiting in a room, far from the guests and the church; not at all impatient or nervous but unsure. At the end it had always been the same with Stanley. Her existence had turned into a distrustful routine from the doubts over the fact if he would like her new shoes to the dubitative wonder she was having now about the color of her dress being appropriate for jail.

Her eyes went down and stared at her feet. She frowned.

"I have made something wrong with Will, Gracie."

The reply surprised the interior designer as the attorney hadn't mentioned anything and he didn't seem to be angry. Karen and he used to argue a lot and until then the rest of the group had always got to know about it. She studied the millionaire's attitude with confusion. The dark-haired woman was hiding her face from Grace but we could easily notice how her cheeks were red. She was ashamed, embarrassed. What had she done to be in such a state?

"Well I'm sure if you apologize to him, he will understand. It can't be so important, can it? You two were still speaking to each other this morning."

The truth was that it wasn't an argument at all but her inappropriate behavior a couple of months ago when she had spent the night over at his place. They hadn't made the slightest allusion to it but something had remained though; something as thin as a veil of incomprehension and it was hard for them now to go on as if nothing had happened. She needed to apologize, the words had to come out and then she would feel relieved or at least she hoped so.

"Yeah, I don't know…"

"Why did you argue?"

Karen raised her eyebrows and shrugged. She was weighing her words carefully. Perhaps she should have stayed quiet, especially with Grace. She passed a hand over her purple satin dress; sighing.

"It's kind of delicate."

Grace was dying to learn about the springs of the conflict now. It burned her lips so much that she could barely move them properly. She didn't ask, for whatever reason. Her hand came to rest on Karen's shoulder and she smiled back at her in the mirror of the millionaire's bedroom.

"It's your birthday today Karen so let's concentrate on more important things like the fact you're allowed to have some intimacy at the jail to celebrate it with your husband. That's quite an opportunity you can't mess up with just because of a silly argument with Will."

"You're right."

She nodded firmly, not at all convinced though.

The journey seemed to last an eternity but as soon as she saw the gray federal building, her heart began to speed up its pace and she felt her anxiety grow to a more intense level. She passed the doors, keeping her head straight and up before the humiliation of the procedures. She would have loved being untouchable so much, but even when she was thinking that she had a great control of her nerves, she surprised her reflection in a mirror and a new detail made her intentions suddenly crash. This time it was about the way her hands were desperately clutched to her bag.

"Your husband can't have any visitors today."

Her smile froze on her lips as she felt the ground moving under her feet. She cleared her voice and shook her head.

"Excuse me? There must be a mistake. We're supposed to have a private room today."

The guard looked back at his list but it was written in red just next to Stanley's name: no visitor allowed.

"Then he should have known better than to break the rules of the center."

She turned on her heels and walked out of the building slowly. She felt ashamed and hurt, one more time. The light of the sun made her wince and as she stepped into a cab, she took a deep breath just to get reassured that she was indeed free.

She felt like grabbing a Chinese vase and leaving it explode into a million of tiny diamonds on the marble floor of the bathroom or put very single book in the fireplace but she was way too exhausted for such a revenge. He had torn something in her heart, something that would never be able to go back to normal one day and the sequels were that she was just resigned before a missed birthday and a ruined life. Someone knocked at the door. She looked up and frowned as Will made his way in the room.

What was he doing here? Was he spying her or something? He knew that she shouldn't have been at the manse but a quick glance at his hands and she understood that he had stopped by only to deliver some papers. She abandoned the couch she was sat on and made a few steps towards him before shaking her head.

"Even in jail he can't make it…"

She bit her lower lip and rushed in her friend's arms. The briefcase fell down as he responded to the hug.

"I'm sorry, Will."

For a couple of seconds the attorney didn't say a word, only rubbed her back in a slow and peaceful motion. He burst out laughing, cupped her face in his hands and smiled cheerfully.

"I would have never thought that you would be so desperate to feel like having sex with me."

She rolled her eyes and accepted the lightness that put an end to the parenthesis.

"Maybe I really missed something though. Who knows? You might be quite good in bed…"

She turned around and headed to the bar; prepared two martinis. The attorney took the glass she tended to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring you a present."

She narrowed her eyes at him before a smile played on her lips. She looked sincere.

"But you're here."

He left a couple of hours later but forgot his cashmere sweater. She was about to go to bed when she noticed the piece of clothing resting on a chair. She grabbed it and put it on. She felt asleep with the scent of Will going to her head in a reassuring motion as the soft fabric was embracing her naked body. Perhaps it was wrong, especially after the way she had dared to kiss him once but it also symbolized the only presence she had had for her birthday and she couldn't draw a line under it so easily.


	8. Changes

**_Chapter seven_**

She narrowed her eyes and as usual, concentrated on their hands, not on their lips. The heroine had finally abdicated and let the man of her life take her in his arms for the final and so expected kiss. Happy endings seemed to spread a note of sweetness over spectators' heart but as soon as the screen turned dark, the illusion faded away and the bitter reality imposed itself once again because life had nothing to do with a movie. That's why she never focused on the kiss but the way their bodies were already part of the next move. It matched better with all the rest, how it worked. But this time it felt different. The actress's fingers were clutched to her partner's forearm and she didn't feel like going away from him. She wasn't acting anymore; her real feelings had taken possession of the scene. Were they lovers off the set? Karen bit her lower lip, hoping so. Their chemistry was unique.

"I wish I knew what it is to be kissed…"

Her remark troubled Jack who turned around and stared at her in disbelief. She shrugged and smiled at him but her mind had flown away, very far and she wasn't in the room anymore.

"You know what I mean."

Something had changed lately. The exact morning both friends had gone for some shopping and the dark-haired woman hadn't complained the slightest bit when the salesperson had told her that they didn't have her size anymore. It was a detail but its insignificance came to support a whole series of other ones that for being accumulated, reached some importance we could just not deny.

She was being touched by Stanley's situation, a lot more than what she agreed to say but as she let nobody comfort her properly, it was all getting worse and she suffered even more. Jack sat up on the couch she was on and took her in his arms but she didn't respond to the embrace, just politely accepted it in silence. She hated speaking when things were heading straight into a brick wall.

A guard came to stand on her left. She looked down, not daring to cross his gaze. She straightened herself up on her chair as an ounce of pride set off in her heart and she pretended not to care, staying there in the room as if she were in the library of their Upper East Side manse. It wasn't provocation but on the contrary, more of an act of self-defense; humility for not being the one to blame if she was there today.

Stanley sat down in front of her. She didn't say a word. He had lost weight and looked tired but her lips remained closed in a firm line. She wasn't determined to throw a fit at him but something had blocked the mechanism and now her voice was blank, lost in the tricks played by her subconscious.

"How are you?"

She blinked at his question and all of a sudden, rushing from nowhere, the tears started welling up in her eyes. Stanley gasped, approached an instinctive hand to her face but she pushed him away, breathing loudly.

"You have no idea how you hurt me."

"Karen…"

She cut him off with a vague gesture of her hand. She shook her head.

"What's wrong with me? How come every single man I give my life to, always ends up ruining me as you've been doing for so long? Why do you tell me that I'm pretty when you have an affair? Do you ever think about all these things, the repercussions of your acts on me? You make me live a nightmare, Stanley! And the worst of all is that I'm still here because we both know I couldn't go on without this wedding ring."

She looked at the band on her finger with a disgusted expression on her face that got embraced very soon by the bitterness of regrets and these eternal doubts over past choices.

"I'm sorry, Karen."

She raised her eyebrows before standing up. A forceful smile played on her lips as she looked back at him, murmuring.

"Not as much as I am, Stanley."

For some reason she took the train to go back to Manhattan instead of calling her driver who was only supposed to pick her up in an hour, at the end of the visit. She hadn't planned to storm out as she had just done. She looked around her and sat down on a seat, clutching her bag. A wave of memories made its way to her head and she plunged, disarmed, in the thousands of images she had thought forgotten for so long. She leaned her forehead on the window and closed her eyes.

Her father used to take her in the subway to go through the city. Her mother was always reluctant to use it but he was a fine negotiator, a magician of words who ended up winning the battle after a couple of untouchable arguments. He said that public transportations were the mirror of society and the best performance he had ever attended; a high dose of respect towards difference. He should have been a lawyer.

He would have got so well with Will if he had happened to know him, asking Karen nothing but to marry the attorney.

She blushed and moved uncomfortably on her seat, troubled by the idea that had invaded her thoughts; and this old mechanism that made her heart beat so loud whenever her mind focalized on Will. Since all the years she had been feeling it, would it ever be a part of a secret routine and pass unnoticed to her soul? She looked down at the dirty plastic floor then smiled with melancholy.

If she was sure of one thing right now, it was that the words "Will" and "unnoticed" didn't match at all and would never do.

It was a pure antithesis.

* * *


	9. The art of lying

**_Chapter eight_**

She brought the mug to her face and closed her eyes as the steam caressed her skin softly in a strawberry fragrance motion. The contrast between the heat of the tea and her own coldness made her shiver. She tightened her grip on the blanket and took a sip of the drink. It tasted of nothing but hot water as if her tongue had lost its sensitivity. Someone entered the bedroom. She narrowed her eyes and stared blankly at Rosario who approached her to adjust the pillows in her back.

"Where is Stan? I need him. He knows I do."

The maid stopped and shook her head in a miserable motion then sighed; Karen's temperature seemed to trouble her sense of reality.

"He is not available right now, miss."

The dark-haired woman put down her mug on the bedside table and huddled up, plunging in a lethargic movement in the depths of the sheets. She raised her eyebrows while looking absent-mindedly at an invisible spot on the carpeted floor.

"I know he's not, Rosie."

She closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep but she got betrayed by a lonely tear that caressed her cheek quietly.

It had always been rare that she got sick. She had a strong resistance to any kind of microbes or viruses but she had had the flu once when she had started dating Stanley. He had stayed by her side all along without saying a word; his big and reassuring hands holding her burning head with care. He had stroked her hair, passed his fingers on her temples until the fever had gone away and the moment she had opened her eyes, she had known that he was the right one.

It had never happened again, of course. She usually dealt with her sickness on her own, clutching her wrists and teeth firmly; waiting patiently for it to cease.

She jumped and woke up when she felt a hand on her. Karen opened her eyes with difficulty. She was shivering, probably reaching another stage of temperature but her brain was still working to perfection in spite of the thick fog dancing around her cells.

"Can't this contract just wait a little more, Will?"

She tended her hand to grab the pen the attorney was always holding when he stopped by the mansion but instead she made contact with his fingers, soft and warm. He lifted her up in the air and headed to the bathroom.

Her legs were like jelly as she found herself on the floor. She grabbed the marble counter and left Will go, vaguely realizing he was undressing her. A lift more and she plunged into the hot water of a bubble bath. Her shivers stopped; she relaxed.

The attorney sat down on the floor next to her, his arms crossed on his knees. He was looking aside, avoiding her hazel eyes unless like her, he didn't really know what to say.

"I hope you're enjoying the view, Wilma."

The dark-haired woman plunged her gaze in the water of the bath, right on her ankle where the tattoo seemed to move seductively. A smile began to play on his lips but Karen's remark cut it off immediately.

"Though there's nothing there to enjoy anymore. I'm afraid that the years stole the splendor I might have had once..."

He was speechless. His friend used to highlight the curves of her body so much that her comment hit his face as violently as if she had slapped him.

"But…"

She coughed, making her features tear in pain then shrugged.

"Come on, Will. I'm not going to teach you about the art of lying. You're a lawyer. You're paid for it."

He grabbed a bathrobe, still troubled by the sincerity in her voice that flirted mischievously with bitterness.

"It's time to go back to bed."

She stood up, turned her back at him and obeyed.

"What did your mother usually give you when you were sick?"

She looked up at the attorney with sparkling eyes, invaded by fever.

"Milk with peppermint cordial; I can't bear it anymore though."

Her eyes scanned the room and she vaguely pointed at his briefcase abandoned on a chair.

"What do I have to sign?"

"It can wait, Karen. It's nothing important."

"You don't stop by here on a Sunday afternoon just to say hello."

"I do care about you."

"Oh, I know… But you still didn't stop for teatime."

"I really thought I would find Jack here. Where is he?"

"I don't know."

Will turned on his side and stared at the millionaire in disbelief.

"I thought you were both very close."

"Oh, we are but not in this way."

Without any warning Will grabbed her weak body and placed her head on his lap. Her heart tightened immediately as the memory of Stanley doing the same a decade ago rushed to her mind. She tried to push him away but as soon as the attorney began to caress her hair, Karen abdicated, desperately dealing with the sharpness of her past.

"Why do you always go away from me at some point, honey?"

The words slid on her lips in an inaudible whisper. He asked her to repeat.

"Why does everyone always end up going away from me?"

"We don't, Karen."

_You're lying. _

She fell asleep.


	10. The Bahamas

**_Chapter nine_**

They looked at each other before plunging their eyes in the fake contemplation of the floor, not daring to make the slightest remark about Karen's decision. It was probably her own way to deal with Stanley's incarceration. Some women would have drawn their sorrow in an ocean of incontrollable tears when the millionaire opted for a trip to The Bahamas. They knew she did care about her husband's situation, how tensed their relationship had turned so they assumed, in silence, that some geographical distance might help them to overcome it. The plane took off and Manhattan vanished behind them.

The dark-haired woman had mentioned the house a couple of times but always remained extremely vague over it, even pushing her friends to wonder if it really existed. After half an hour of riding in a taxi, lights began to glimmer through the night, between the leaves of what looked like immense trees. It was located far from the city, somewhere in the woods that, according to Karen, overlooked the ocean from the backyard. The architecture was traditional and well studied; large rooms surrounding a patio where a thousand of candles seemed to dance in the darkness of the place.

The bright sun of the next morning caressed their cheeks softly as the peaceful murmur of the waves rocked their minds and very soon the four friends found themselves on the terrace, having breakfast before the limpid blueness of the ocean.

The days went smoothly as if they had left the stressful references of their routine in New York and they looked peaceful in the island. Life had slowed down, embraced by an exotic landscape. Karen had changed a lot and her friends got reassured very soon by all the good The Bahamas was having on her. Behind her sharp remarks and her grandiloquence she would probably never drop out, her features had softened and she seemed to be more relaxed, going barefoot everywhere with just an ounce of makeup on; barely drinking alcohol. That may explain the behavior she had the night she emptied a bottle of vodka. Her body had probably not been able to bear the high quantity ingurgitated in such a short time.

They all had drunk, for whatever reason. The nice and friendly evening had slowly slid along an unexpected way until they had reached a state of celebration, laughing louder and louder; glass after glass in the backyard. She hadn't meant to find herself alone with him and even less to do it again after the way it had turned out the first time she had tried; no matter that the moment hadn't been the right one. Perhaps she just didn't have control over everything at the end.

She couldn't get to sleep. Her brain was in turmoil as her heart was beating quicker and quicker in her chest for a reason she ignored. Growing in frustration, she got up and crossed the patio, headed to the living-room but didn't stop there. She quietly opened the French window and went down in the backyard. Torch lamps were still on, guiding her steps in the night. She reached the swimming-pool where mattresses were covered up with cushions around the water cubicle and she lie down on one of them to contemplate the stars.

"I didn't know you liked sleeping in the open."

She jumped and turned her face on her right. Will was laid down; she hadn't seen him in the first place, alcohol having troubled her mind a little. The sparkling flame in his eyes as he came to sit down next to her let her understand that he had drunk too much as well; still conscious of his acts but balancing dangerously on the other side. She smiled at him and straightened up. Stanley seemed so far all of a sudden, like all the rest; the bases of their lives.

"Annabelle Orchard is cheating on her husband. She's thirty-four; he's fifty. Her lover is her tennis instructor, doesn't that sound cliché? I think it does."

Will had no idea of who this woman was though he guessed she probably belonged to Karen's circle of acquaintances in the high society.

"Lord Brunswick is cheating on his wife with her sister while Charlie Field has stayed incredibly quiet since this unfortunate party at some swinger club in the depths of Midtown in February."

She locked her eyes with his and shrugged.

"This is the world I live in; every day. We all know the truth and our tongues twirl in delight to spread new scandals in a murmur of gossip but at the end we're all hypocritical because we close our eyes and keep on smiling peacefully as if nothing had happened. We hurt our so-called friends and swallow the return of the ball that slaps our faces so hard that, years later, we still can feel the impact on our cheek. Stanley and I are not dysfunctional; we're just like the others. Perhaps it's the saddest part of this story…"

Her eyes began to sparkle and he took her in his arms, burying her tears in the warmness of a hug she accepted, disarmed. She thought about the last time they had found themselves in such a position. She was sick then and had fallen asleep. She didn't like when they were so close for it sounding odd, awkward even.

"Have you really only had one woman in your life?"

She leaned up on her elbow and looked at him. It had always been something that had caught her attention, probably her curiosity winning over the rest. The attorney was so quiet about his love life and for some reason she had always thought that he had lied.

He frowned, looked aside; feeling trapped. He was laid down on the mattress while the millionaire had vaguely sat up, staring down at him. She was dominating the situation.

"What would it change anyway?"

She raised an eyebrow, amused by the delicate smartness of his reply.

"It would put some light over your heart that must be so cold now."

She smiled and winked at him before leaning over for a light and chaste kiss. He responded to it, obviously enjoying the weird conversation going on. Their lips brushed furtively. The air passed between them until they kissed again, and again. Every time seemed to steal some more seconds and it lasted a little longer. Then, instinctively, they both opened their mouths, a few inches away from each other, and vaguely jumped as their tongues made contact; deepening for the very first time their kisses.

She passed on top of him very quickly as his hands began to travel down her back, along her hips. They could hear the waves crashing below against the cliff as the pace of their intertwined tongues adopted a bolder rhythm. They broke apart and she went down his jaw, his neck. Her lips were warm and moist on his skin. He swallowed hard; passed a hand through her hair as she unbuttoned his shirt and proceeded to kiss his down chest slowly.

Her fingers brushed his jeans as her kisses spread on his lower stomach with sensuality. She unbuttoned his pants and was about to unzip them when all of a sudden he pushed her away and got up then rushed back to the house; murmuring in confusing of how sorry he was.

Karen looked at him vanish in the night; she narrowed her eyes, biting her lower lip.

She knew she had gone too far.


	11. Routine

**_Chapter ten_**

Her fingers brushed the glass of wine, she caressed it absent-mindedly then she looked aside at the empty chair next to her. The red velvet fabric didn't even wear the last print of its guest as if it had been lonely for so long that everybody had forgotten about its mere presence in the ball room.

There had been someone once by her side, a man to hold her hand, pass an arm around her waist. She had felt secure and warm until the strength he used to represent had begun to fade away and now all that was left was an empty armchair and the shame rocked by his acts. She looked up at the candles and the incessant comings and goings of the crowd; sparkling diamonds moving on women's necks and ears, a glass of Champagne in hand. Conversations were in full swing, punctuated by laughter, a whole series of exclamations. She swallowed back a wave of tears, frowning.

"How's Stan?"

Karen closed her eyes as Abigail Woodworth grabbed her shoulder between her claws and murmured the sacred question supposed to set off a well anticipated blush on the interviewed person's cheeks. For a couple of seconds the dark-haired woman felt like slapping her interlocutor before rushing out and moving to the smallest town in Kansas or just spending the rest of her life locked in her penthouse because she wasn't sure she would ever survive far from New York. A day wasn't a day without Central Park. Very slowly she took a sip of her red wine, put down the glass on the table and nodded.

"He's doing just fine, thank you for asking. Well, probably not as fine as your gardener but you know how things are; one lucky day, one unlucky one."

Abigail's affair with her gardener was as old and pointless as her first cigarette but it nonetheless got a rejection effect and very soon Karen found the tranquility of her lonely table. She wrote down a check and decided to leave, bored. All they needed anyway was her money. Her presence wasn't required to spread gossip; they could do it without her being there. She went down the few stairs of the mansion and stepped into her limousine as it stopped by her side. The door got closed and she burst into tears. Sometimes she wished she had a normal life, a bit quieter. It sounded simple and so relaxing.

When he didn't respond to her third joke Grace put down her fork and grabbed Will's hand instead. The unexpected contact made the attorney look up at her; she got his attention.

"Okay tell me what's in your head now, you mysterious guy."

He shrugged, tried to smile and sweep it all away with a gesture of his hand but before the interior designer's insistent gaze, he abdicated; sighing aloud.

"Something happened with Karen in The Bahamas."

"Did you two have a fight?"

As much as she was trying to remember the days since they had all come back to Manhattan, the red-haired woman couldn't remember any specific change in her friends' behavior. Will shook his head.

"No and as a matter of fact it wasn't the first time that it happened; I just don't know what to do or… Has Karen already spoken to you about me? In a serious way, I mean."

The question took Grace aback but as Will seemed to care a lot about her answer, she concentrated and gave him a sincere reply.

"You know how she is uncomfortable when it comes to her feelings, no matter how chaste they are. But I really guess she likes you a lot because you seem to bring her something that Jack and I can't, for whatever reason. You have a different relationship with her. I wouldn't say it's stronger than ours but more natural. We needed years and years to reach what we're having now while you got Karen's trust right away and I know it's mutual in spite of your constant arguments. Weirdly enough I would say that she's your real soul mate because it came all by itself. It hasn't been the same for me. She never said anything like that but I'm sure it's what she thinks."

Will blinked, unsure of what he was supposed to say back. He hadn't expected such an analyzation from Grace, as honest and true as it sounded. All of a sudden he grabbed Grace in his arms and hugged her tight to apologize because he would never be able to give her what she had wanted so bad once. She probably understood his gesture because she smiled shyly when they broke apart.

"Do you want to know what happened in The Bahamas?"

She shook her head slowly, scanning her friend's gaze.

"I prefer to wait until it gets all clear in your head."

She winced, took her fork in her hand and concentrated on her lasagna.

The limousine stopped in front of her Upper East Side building. She rushed out and threw herself in the elevators, avoiding the doorman's gaze; counting to thirty then she faced the oak doors of her manse. She passed Rosario and ran upstairs to the greenhouse then locked the door behind her.

The problem of the place was that as big as it was, her sobs never passed unnoticed for someone always hanging around and the irony of fate showed its face then as her loneliness didn't find enough room to move in freedom. None of her maids would have dared to make the slightest remark but they all knew how Karen was sad.


	12. The Fourth of July

**_Chapter eleven_**

Stanley had waved a kiss at her. It had been as vague as a timid sun hiding behind gray clouds on a stormy day but he had nonetheless done it. She would have been touched if it hadn't sounded so awkward and false, seemingly empty. It had just been a poor effort before so-called apologies he might have been feeling to say. She had looked at him with a subconscious indifference as her brain cells had analyzed the main lines of the situation then she had realized all of a sudden how she had been wrong all along, since the night she had left home at sixteen to the day of her last wedding.

For the very first time in years, she had come back to Manhattan with the lightness of novelty. She would ask for a divorce, find an apartment and focalize at last on those dreams she had had once. If she had had enough time, she would even have gone straight to New Jersey to kneel down before the piece of ground where her father was resting and she would have told him how she was sorry. He would have been so ashamed to see the person she had turned out to be when she hadn't cared at all about him, about his ideas. Something had set off in her mind as if she had just awoken from a long and deep lethargy but as she had stepped into the penthouse and looked all around her, it had all gone away, swallowed by her cowardice and the evidence that she could never live without Stanley's advantages.

She put down an empty glass of Champagne on a table and smiled forcefully at the crowd of guests reunited on the upper deck, waiting for the fireworks. Her lungs blocked the slightest entrance to the deep breaths of air she tried to take and so she rushed away, disappearing downstairs in the corridors of her yacht. The party was in full swing as the coolness of some July evening was caressing people's necks in a relaxing motion after the unbearable heat of the day. The electricity of a well-known celebration was filling the rooms bewitchingly.

The satin of her dress flew over the stairs as her feet speeded up. She felt oppressed, nauseous and lost; insecure. She found the wooden pier, stared one more time at the boat then turned on her right, taking off her high heels.

Since the day Will had made this mysterious comment about Karen, Grace had been observing her assistant carefully, just to be sure that she wasn't missing a detail that might have made the difference and led her to quieter secrets she hadn't got to know yet. But she hadn't been able to see the slightest thing, not even a gaze that she would have had towards Will as obviously it had to do with him. Karen seemed to have remained the same, joking around; all smiles before her bitter life because it was better to laugh at it than to cry somehow. She always pretended to be so positive.

In spite of the exceptional view over the skylines and the thousands of millionaires wandering through the boat, Grace was growing bored and had lost the object of her attention in the middle of the crowd. Midnight was on its way and people were rushing outside to be sure to have the best angle to see Manhattan. She looked all around and waved at Jack but as soon as a waiter stopped by his side, Grace disappeared from his mind. She sighed; walking away.

Behind a row of deckchairs the red-haired woman found hidden stairs unless it was more a ladder that joined the upper part of the yacht to the lower one. She passed her legs over it and found herself walking along the lifeboats in the darkness of the night as nobody seemed to have thought necessary to light up this part of the yacht. The view of The Upper West Side was breathtaking though from there and so she sat down, leaning against a lifebelt; her eyes focalized on the stars that littered the sky. All of a sudden a murmur of voices came to trouble the peaceful silence of the place. Grace frowned and looked around her until she realized that the discussion was held on a smaller boat just next to Karen's one. She moved a little and shook her head in disbelief as she saw her friend sitting down on a mattress in the cabin which window was wide open to let the coolness of the air come in. Will was standing on the doorframe.

He could have been having a child with Karen and he would have still be wondering about the situation, all the things that were happening and got suspended as soon as it became confusing. He didn't have to search for too long though when she disappeared from the party; he knew immediately where she had gone to and so he followed her, guided by his instinct. He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants to his ankles not to get his clothes wet then made a silent step on the deck of the sailing boat. She was sitting on a mattress that covered the entire surface of the cabin, looking absent-mindedly at the sky while an oil lamp was burning by her side, hung to a nail; facing on the opposite wall of a horseshoe.

He studied her from the open window for a long minute. She hadn't seen him because her eyes were sparkling way too much under her silent tears. He finally passed the door. She regained composure and smiled at him; shrugging.

"I hate the yacht. I hate so many things."

She let him enter and sit down but the heat running up her cheeks made her turn her head. Why was she blushing? She felt so stupid; for not being able to assume everything, for being embarrassed for the episode in The Bahamas, for Stanley cheating on her but most of all for being someone she didn't want to recognize as herself.

An awkward silence took possession of the tiny cabin. Obviously Will was as uncomfortable as her, not knowing what to say. He cleared his voice but the words stayed twirling around in his throat. He looked down at his lap.

Her hazel eyes followed his defeating movement.

"I'm not sorry, Will. I don't want to."

She hadn't drunk that much and was way too sober not to get the perfect meaning of her own words. Her heart began to beat quicker under her semi-confession, her voice shaking in a veil of truth that dared to assume what had happened in the islands. Very slowly she turned her head and looked at him. He was just a few inches away from her; she could almost feel his breath on her lips but the confusion in his brown eyes scared her too much to make the slightest move.

The oil lamp weakened in her back. She looked at it to check the dose but froze as his hand grabbed her nape and forced her to lock her eyes with his.

They kissed. Grace blinked at them.

And the first fireworks colored the sky of New York in patriotic forms.


	13. Blank

**_Chapter twelve_**

She didn't dare to move. He was kissing her but she was paralyzed by the fear that her slightest gesture would make him go away as he used to as soon as the situation became more serious. He had made the first step this time though; perhaps it meant a lot, a change. She could hear the fireworks explode in the sky and the exclamations of the guests on the deck of the yacht while the only sound that escaped from the cabin she was in was the murmur of the wood rocked by the waters of The Hudson in the darkness of the night. His hand slid on her waist and her gasp disappeared in his mouth as he deepened the kiss. She was shaking when her fingers brushed his shoulders and she finally allowed herself to pass her arms around his neck in a motion of relief.

They laid down on the mattress as he passed on top of her and her heart began to beat faster. She was scared, felt fragile. Something kept on telling her it was wrong but all she wanted to do was to hold him tight against her and feed her soul with the heat of his presence. They didn't really break apart. The kiss simply slid from their lips to her neck, her bare shoulders as he went down her body slowly. She kept her eyes firmly closed as we do in the morning when we don't want to abandon our dreams for our reality because waking up sounds so harsh then.

His hands passed underneath her satin dress and caressed her thighs moving to her hips before going up slowly along her ribs and he got rid of her piece of clothing. For some reason he didn't touch her back immediately and so she opened her eyes, seeming vaguely panicked. He looked up at her, conscious of her gaze on him. She frowned, pleading him in silence; embarrassed to be in such position under him, half-naked. If he ran away now, she would die at the scene. He finally leaned over after long seconds of incertitude and captured her lips in a deep and sensual kiss. They rolled on a side and she passed on top of him.

His skin was soft under her palm. She unbuttoned his shirt in a trail of kisses and heavily sighed as his hand on her hair pushed her closer to him. She discarded his top and caressed his arms, the shapes of his shoulders. Was it possible to pass underneath someone's skin to find a secured place to live in? The idea passed by her mind when she kissed his chest, heading to his lower stomach carefully. She blushed while unzipping his pants, wondering if he was watching her do it. She couldn't support herself on appearances now. The situation was such that she couldn't cheat anymore. She had to let Will witness her fragility.

The first time she had had sex with Stanley it had sounded logical like the taste of a regular home-made chocolate cake or a coffee at Starbucks; not sparkling but evident. Why did it have to be surprising anyway? She had always felt the same about all the men she had been intimate with so her mind had simply put a common label over it and she had assimilated her absence of feelings to logic. Being in love had nothing to do with orgasms and it was definitely easier to reach the second one than the first. As a matter of fact she even wondered if she had ever been in love once.

Her thoughts faded away as Will passed back on top of her and unhooked her bra. Then all of a sudden as she began to smile under his caresses, quiet tears ran down along her cheeks. She was holding him tight between her legs, feeling the heat of his body against her shivering skin. He was alive, avid of kisses. Her hands travelled down his buttocks and she took off his boxers; he did as well with her own lingerie, brushing her inner flesh with his lips. She sobbed, her head leaned backwards. Something hurt in her throat, the weight of loneliness and the improbability of the night. It put an abrupt end to Will's ministrations. He leaned up on his elbows and looked at her in disbelief, afraid he had hurt her; confused by the smile playing on her lips behind the veil of tears.

"Are you okay?"

He swallowed hard and pushed away a strand of hair that had trapped itself along her mouth from her face. She blinked at him, breathed loudly then grabbed his nape and made him lean over for a kiss.

She had missed the heat of someone's body on hers, way too much.

The cry of a seagull woke Will up the next morning. The sun was piercing sky where gray clouds seemed to fight with difficulty through the rain. He opened his eyes slowly, rubbed them and realized he wasn't in his bed. The walls were made of wood and all he could see was a line of pale blue waters outside the cabin. He turned his face around and looked in silence at Karen who was still deeply asleep next to him. She had pulled away the white shawl they had used as a blanket and she was laid on her stomach, revealing the fairness of her back in an innocent motion as the darkness of her hair was hiding her eyes.

For a couple of seconds he stayed still, staring at her blankly as his brain was trying to connect back with reality. Images of the previous night floated in his head. He moved a little.

"Where are you going?"

She hadn't opened her eyes, only mumbled almost inaudibly halfway in her sleep. He took her in his arms and planted a kiss on the top of her head; she relaxed against him, sighing.

"I'll be right back."

The rain had started pouring when Will walked back along the wooden pier, bag of donuts in hands. He had no idea of what was happening nor where the things were heading to but the way he was walking was self-confident, secure. He passed the yacht and was about to step on the sailing boat when he froze, unable to make another step forward. The Hudson was calm, absorbing quietly the rain drops in small circles of invisibility.

Very slowly he bent over and put down the bag of donuts on the deck, his fingers sliding along the wood; tracing a new path of water with the rain.

He straightened his back and left.


	14. Something going wrong

**_Chapter thirteen_**

Rosario opened her mouth to speak but Karen didn't stop, didn't rush either. She simply went upstairs in a long and silent motion. She took off the sneakers she was wearing then crashed on the floor, huddled up on a corner next to an old armchair She and Stanley had bought in Barcelona a couple of years before. She closed her eyes; tried to concentrate on her breath but it burnt her lungs as soon as the air penetrated her body.

She had probably set off a whole series of interrogations among the maids while coming back to the penthouse in a pair of old jeans and a devastated look on her face but as much as it was sore, the tears wouldn't come out and her cheeks remained dry; the pain was blocked halfway between her heart and her mind, unable to choose a way to be eased.

She felt stupid and miserable; ashamed, distraught. She realized all of a sudden that she was still holding the soaked wet bag of donuts tightly. The paper had turned transparent under the rain, getting lost in the shapes of the pastries. She let go of it slowly, wishing nothing but to draw a line under that morning.

It hadn't been the light of the sun but the absence of his arms around her that had finally made her open her eyes. She hadn't checked her watch though he seemed to have gone for quite a while and the questions were beginning to rush to her mind. She had yawned, stretched and called him twice, getting nothing back but the soft rhythm of the rain drops falling on the deck and the open window. Her satin dress had been thrown in a corner like the vestige of a defeated palace. She had grabbed the pair of jeans and an old pea jacket that she kept on the boat; put them on and headed out on the deck. She had still this smile playing on her lips, the light of hope that all the lovers share on their features.

She hadn't noticed anything in the first place, looking way too up to the pier until the whiteness of the paper bag had caught her attention and she had frowned, confused; in disbelief. She had sat down there under the rain, ridiculously waiting for his return during hours then quietly accepted a truth she had made her best to ignore. She had hailed a cab, losing hopes while butterflies that had ironically not stopped growing in her stomach.

Around two in the afternoon Rosario poked her head inside the bedroom to announce that she had taken the liberty to run a bath for her. She was still soaked wet by the rain; it wasn't good for her. Karen stood up blankly and headed next door then took off her clothes slowly, not daring the slightest gaze towards her body.

She had never been dumped that way. Nobody had ever left her in the morning before she woke up. It was all new and troubling. Her self-confidence seemed to have been strangulated by the hands of indifference and she didn't know what to think anymore. She felt guilty, for whatever reason. She plunged her tiptoes in the hot water, hesitated then finally sat down in the tub. It took her nearly five long minutes to realize that she was shaking.

She hadn't watched them. When Will had passed on top of Karen, Grace had left the deck in an awkward motion, vaguely in shock. Though when he came back in the morning she understood whom he had spent the night with. She had been drinking coffee when he had opened the door, smiled shyly at her but rushed to his bathroom. And now he was there, on the couch, staring blankly at the television set he hadn't even turned on.

The hours flew away in a lame silence but Grace didn't know what to say before her friend's confusion. His face remained so closed that it was hard to make the slightest move without dreading his reaction. Was he angry? Was he scared? She was dying to know everything; if he had liked it or not, what had happened next with Karen. Perhaps it had gone very badly and that's why his lips remained in a firm line.

Very slowly she made her way to the couch and settled down next to him; passed her frame under his arms. She leaned her head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"You know this guy at the deli?"

She nodded at Will. They had spoken about him for weeks, debating over his deep green eyes. He cleared his voice.

"I think I'm going to date him."

She restrained a gasp of total incomprehension. She turned around and looked at him then frowned. He smiled forcefully and she settled back against him.

"It's a good idea, Will."

Her lie escaped from her lips in a murmur of thoughts.

The water of her bath had got considerably colder but she was still reluctant to leave it. She felt almost secure in it, a bit less dirty.

"There's something going wrong in this world, Rosie."

The maid who had stayed in the bathroom all along pretending to concentrate on a thousand of activities suddenly turned around and raised her eyebrows at Karen, waiting for an explanation to her strange remark.

"What is it, miss?"

Her fingers brushed the surface of the water and she drew little circles that vanished within a second as a bitter smile lit up her face. She shrugged and bit her lower lip.

"We shouldn't be allowed to have feelings."


	15. A step forward

**_Chapter fourteen_**

Karen narrowed her eyes as she entered the bar. The place was as dark as night, sharply contrasting with the brightness of the sun of August that was shining high in the sky outside. The smell of cigarette smoke went to her head dizzily, but she couldn't help shivering. It was impersonal and dirty, oppressive. The tables were covered by invisible circles left by the glasses over the years, a mix of beer and whisky; some wine. She made a few steps forwards and looked all around her. She was uncomfortable and it took her aback. She had lost her capacity to adapt herself to any kind of environment when it was the only detail that could remind her of herself. Things seemed to have changed apparently.

A waitress pushed her with a tray full of drinks. She sat down at a table and scanned the room, clutched to her bag.

"What can I do for you?"

She cleared her voice and raised a dubitative eyebrow before turning around to look at the girl standing up next to her properly.

"I want…"

She hadn't seen her for over two decades but as soon as her hazel eyes plunged in hers, all her doubts flew away; all the fantasies she had made up in her mind while going there and if time had engraved its prints on her or not, what she looked like now. She would have not even missed her in a room full of strangers. She frowned as a timid smile played on her lips and her voice lowered.

"I want to talk to you."

Lois stumbled backwards and nodded, troubled by Karen's confession. She grabbed the chair next to her daughter; sitting down.

"I can have a break now."

Karen opened her eyes widely, accepting her mother's explanation for the sudden move in silence.

She had always known where to find her, what her occupation was, where she lived but for the only reason that she wanted to avoid her for the rest of her life and now she was there, breaking the wall of anger over her heart into pieces; she had spent so much time to settle it down.

There were so many things she felt like saying to her that every single word stayed trapped and so she didn't speak. The last time they had seen each other Karen was sixteen and nothing but reproaches in mind. She stared down at the table in frustration and frowned; shaking her head. She opened her mouth but only sighed before rushing in her mother's arms as old tears began to run on her face.

"I missed you, mom."

Will entered the office and smiled at Grace then looked at the empty chair in front of a row of nail varnish bottles. It had been a month now and he had barely seen Karen since then. When they were in the same room they simply avoided each other's gaze and kept on pretending that the rest hadn't changed; for Grace, for Jack, for themselves too perhaps. Any face-to-face had scrupulously been discarded and as much as they both knew it was the right thing to do, they hadn't spoken about it, never mentioned the night of July 4th and they would probably not dare to anyway.

Grace moved on her stool, still concentrated on her sketch.

"Where is Brian?"

"It's over."

She looked up at Will and raised her eyebrows in a feigned surprise.

"Oh really? How bad, he was nice guy."

"He wasn't the right one."

She narrowed her eyes, staring blankly at Karen's desk and nodded slowly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Will dropped his briefcase on the floor and leafed through a fashion magazine aimlessly. The pages flew away in front of his eyes. He closed it in a loud motion and gave a bright smile to his friend.

"I'm hungry, aren't you? Let's go to the restaurant, Gracie."

She had scheduled her life on pointless activities and monotone events. Seeing Stanley on Wednesday and spending the rest of her time wandering from the office to the penthouse. It hadn't taken her that long to realize the mistake they had made and the reason why it was never good to cross the lines. It ruined it all, this old mechanic of the days and then you felt lost and empty; fragile and cold. She was glad he hadn't stayed on the boat that morning because it wasn't his place and would never be.

She was married to another man and as much as she might regret it, it was an undeniable fact she had to deal with.

Karen smiled politely as her mother put down a martini in front of her. She grabbed the glass and made it twirl between her fingers. The olive caressed the edge and came to rest on the center of the drink when she stopped the movement of her hand.

"I have ruined everything."

Her voice sounded dry, lost in the music playing in the background. She looked up at her mother and shook her head, restraining another wave of tears. She shrugged.

"My life doesn't make the slightest sense. I hate it and I love him…"

She remembered the first time she had been dumped by her boyfriend. His name was Paul and he had ended up choosing her best friend over her. She had cried all night in the depths of her bed until in the morning her mother had come in her room and taken her in her arms for a hug. They hadn't spoken, simply stayed still against each other and she had never wished so much in her life that time would get suspended. But it never happened and perhaps it meant something.


	16. Vows

**_Chapter fifteen_**

Will walked passed her holding a plate. She observed him in silence. The self-confidence of his steps was almost insolent in comparison with the weight of her insecurities she kept on hiding behind a curtain of appearances. She excused herself, putting an end to the conversation she was having with a woman named Catherine and took a deep breath while following her friend. The situation was far from being intimate. The backyard was crowded of relatives as the party was in full swing; children running everywhere, laughing loud. She stopped a few steps away and looked at him. He was leaning on the trunk of a tree, lost in the contemplation of the grass; alone.

Lois' words made their way to her mind. She frowned, feeling confused and scared. A soft breeze caressed her nape but she shivered, almost too cold. She swallowed hard and tried to ease her heartbeats but her chest was moving incredibly quickly.

She was thinking that perhaps she should draw a line under everything when Marilyn waved at her, which made Will look up and notice her presence. Her fingers were clutched to her glass of Champagne while she was staring at him timidly; her cheeks so red. An instinctive mechanism took control of her body and she made a few steps forward then shrugged.

She was wearing a large ankle-length white cotton dress that seemed to dance a waltz with the grass as soon as she moved; the fabric floating in the air like a cloud. She had done her hair but the wind had stolen a couple of strands that were now caressing her face softly. She looked so pale.

Without any warning she grabbed his neck and captured his lips in a kiss. Surprised, it took him a couple of seconds before reacting. He pushed her away and shook his head in disbelief.

"Karen, what are you doing?"

A timid and weak smile played on her lips. She looked up at the sky and shrugged.

"I was wondering if you missed me. Because I do; I miss you."

Will blinked and she thought that she had definitely lost him. Three months had passed by since the fourth of July. They were celebrating his cousin's wedding on Coney Island and the only thing she had decided to do was to kiss him under the bright light of the day in front of thousands of strangers.

The butterflies in her stomach were powerful, bewitchingly wrong but their meaning was so obvious. She passed her right hand over her left fingers but the skin slid on the exact spot she used to wear her wedding band. She had taken it off a couple of hours before, in the morning while getting prepared for the ceremony. She felt naked, vulnerable but nonetheless light; in peace with the rest.

"Please, answer me Will…"

His silence was troubling, difficult to face.

"I'm not allowed to be attached to you."

"Oh, I see."

She had fantasized about this moment for so long but the way it was finally turning out took her aback. She felt her heart slow down and dig a hole to disappear from her body. She was disappointed but what could she have expected anyway? He had left in the morning without any explanation. The message had been pretty clear. She felt stupid.

"I can't afford to lose you that's why I'm not supposed to be close to you, Karen."

A bell rang in the background to announce the dinner. Karen turned around furtively to look at the guests walking back to the house.

"How are you coping with everything, with Stan?"

She raised a bitter eyebrow and left in a murmur of anger.

"Who said I was, Will?"

She sat next to Jack and kissed his cheek then smiled at him. She needed comfort and tenderness; a high dose of care but it wasn't the right time and even less the right place. Someone stood up on her left, a few tables away.

"I would like to bring a toast to the newly-weds."

Karen grabbed her glass as Jack's hand came to rest over hers in a peaceful motion. She tightened it.

"Love is a rare case. Since the day of our birth we focalize on it, perhaps a bit too much. The luckiest ones end up finding it but I like thinking that the rest of the crowd also does. It's just we don't see it or don't dare to because it's scary. But one day we wake up and realize it's too late. Our time is over. It's not a precious feeling but the essence of our hearts so we shouldn't let it go away like that. It's a singular lucky charm, a unique one. May love last and brighten our lives!"

Her lips moved in silence as the whole room repeated the sentence. She caught Will's gaze.

"Karen, you're crying!"

She jumped at Grace's whispered remark and swept away the tears that had started falling on her cheeks. She looked down at the table, ashamed.

"What happened that night that it changed it all so suddenly?"

She gasped at her friend's remark but regained composure almost immediately. They were sharing a table with strangers and the discussion was far too intimate to be held out loud; no matter how unexpected Grace's confession was. Karen frowned, asking in silence for an explanation from her friend.

"I saw you on the boat. You were kissing."

She politely accepted another glass of wine from a man sat on the opposite side of the table, smiled at him and took a sip. She put down the glass and looked blankly at the drink balance slowly in a purple wave. Her jaw began to shake. Her gaze darkened.

"He left in the morning while I was still sleeping."


	17. Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux

**_Chapter sixteen_**

The car drove off as its lights vanished behind the trees under the good-byes waved by the guests. Her hand made contact with the window in a vague attempt to join everyone below in the park but her soft features deepened all of a sudden and she closed her eyes firmly, leaning her forehead on the cold glass; bursting into tears. She was alone in her room, plunged in the dark. The wedding party might have gone on but her life had been ruined and so she had retreated to her bitter loneliness in silence, escaping from people's attention.

She probably should have turned down the invitation and stayed in Manhattan. How could she actually face newly-weds' happiness when her own marriage had failed in a whirl of regretful mistakes? The door opened and for a furtive couple of seconds life seemed to penetrate the place through the warmness of laughter, the shades of bright lights and the notes of a piano playing in the background. She didn't jump when Grace put a hand on her shoulder but simply turned around and rushed in her arms.

"It's okay, Karen."

The caresses were soft in her hair, relaxing. She knew that she was blushing though the darkness of the night prevented her friend from seeing it, for her highest relief. She felt so ashamed, confused and hurt.

Grace began to rub her back and her sobs calmed down. She broke the embrace, passed a hand over her mouth and shook her head.

"What is wrong with me? Why did he leave? He hurt me."

She wouldn't have imagined that her confessions would land in Grace's ears for some obvious reasons but the words were coming out and her heart felt lighter little by little if it weren't for this old song twirling in her head that her grandmother used to hum, a French one as long as she could remember. _Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux. _She was starting to believe it and that, indeed, there wasn't any happy love.

"There's nothing wrong with you."

She opened her eyes and her hazel pupils sparkled in the dark, lit up by tears. She looked up and let a resigned sigh escape from her lips.

"He wasn't a whim. I wasn't looking for an acolyte to my lonely nights. It would have never happened for such a purpose, not with him. But he probably felt nothing but pity for me and accessed my quiet demand. His gesture is extremely awkward but I might have forced him somehow. He didn't dare to refuse and I regret it so much now. I know I'm not supposed to love him. I'm married…"

"You don't choose to fall in love. It happens and that's all. You have to deal with it, no matter the situation and the events it implies. You can't blame it on yourself."

Grace's words sounded right but abrupt, a bit sharp. She was probably trying to face it on her own but everything was rushing back to her mind like a burning reminiscence of a crash. She knew what it meant to be in love with Will. Karen opened her mouth and took a loud breath before shaking her head and shrugging.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to appear in your life and ruin it all. I'm not like that."

A few seconds flew away, oppressive ones. The kiss that Grace left on Karen's head resounded loud.

"I know."

"Besides I have nothing to offer him but infidelity. I belong with Stanley, whatever happens. I don't break contracts. Marriage is all about compromises. You might be hurt, disappointed and lonely in the process but it's how it works. You know it or at least I do. Smiling isn't so complicated. I like hypocrisy. It's reassuring."

She laughed but it sounded false. Another car drove off below and its lights caressed her pale cheeks furtively. She stood up and came to huddle up on the bed. Grace stayed against the window frame, staring at the figure of her friend in the dark.

"Has Stanley ever cheated on you?"

"Oh come on, Grace! They marry us then the spell is broken and our image changes all of a sudden. We're sort of trophies they exhibit from time to time but they barely touch us. It's… It's normal. The wives belong to a chaste category."

"Then you should be a mistress. You deserve to be cared for."

"Well the last time it happened the man in question told me that he would be right back. I'm still waiting for him, Gracie."

"Will is not like that. He's not a jerk. I can't believe that."

"And I wish it were a lie. He kissed me while I was still half-asleep and when I asked him where he was going, he told me not to worry and that he would be back soon. I woke up a couple of hours later and all I found was an abandoned bag of donuts. I must be really stupid because I waited even longer, just in case. But the most pitiful is that somewhere deep inside of me I'm sure one day he will do it and come back to me."

Karen stretched her legs. She took off her shoes and plunged in the depths of the smooth bed. She closed her eyes.

"He has to because all my other dreams have already vanished."

She felt asleep slowly, peacefully while Grace kept on staring at her in disbelief.


	18. Time to turn a page

**_Chapter seventeen_**

Since the day they had met in college, Will had rarely seen Grace so angry, on the verge of breaking everything into pieces while thick tears of disgust and incomprehension lit up her eyes. The door had flown open. He had jumped in his bath and stared at his friend in disbelief, wondering what she was doing there in the middle of the night. Obviously he hadn't been the only one who couldn't have fallen asleep. She had shaken her head, trying to control her loud breath and asked in a murmur for an explanation because she couldn't believe what was happening.

Their conversation had accompanied the first motions of the sun in the early morning, sealing in a long and honest embrace, his promise to confess it all to Karen as he had just done with Grace. When he was ready though and so they had spent the rest of the weekend celebrating the wedding as if nothing had happened.

As for Karen, she had swept away her tears within the night and come back to her singular routine with a fake easiness that nobody but Grace would ever notice.

Coney Island was far behind now and Manhattan was boiling in turmoil before the preparations of Halloween. It seemed that the city had wrapped itself up in a veil of pale colors that made the eyes sparkle of nostalgia and quietness. She couldn't have turned down his request for whatever reason she wanted to ignore or at least pretend so. Recognizing her weaknesses would put an end to a lot of things and make her so-called existence crash miserably on the ground, waiting in agony for the irreversible sentence.

She passed the gates of Central Park and smiled while taking a deep breath, feeding her lungs with the smell of life; delighting her gaze with the melancholic shades of the fall. She loved this season more than anything. The air was chilling and the year was slowly coming to an end. It was time to turn the page and forgive, at last. She hurried up as she saw him leaning against the statue of Shakespeare. She smiled, anxious. It was the first time she would find herself alone with him since the fourth of July. She might have been missing his arms and the softness of his lips on hers but the real emptiness left by the events was the distance. If she couldn't have him as her lover then she still wanted to pretend to be his friend.

"I brought you…"

Will tended her some hot drink timidly. She looked at it and frowned, ready to refuse it.

"It's not hot chocolate but an Irish coffee."

"Oh, thank you."

She took a sip and the subtle dose of whisky warmed up her bones, reddened her cheeks and made her pupils glimmer.

She hated milk. It was such a rare characteristic that most of people tended to forget it. He hadn't.

"Do you want to walk a little or just stay here on a bench?"

"I don't really mind."

A woman passed next to them pushing a stroller. She observed her furtively as the wheels slid on the ground in a crackling motion.

"Listen, Karen… I want…"

"It's okay, Will. Let's just turn the page over it. This is getting ridiculous and life is too short for these kind of misunderstandings. You're my friend and I don't want to lose you. That's all I know. The past must have to stay behind."

She avoided his gaze, aimlessly studying the trunk of a tree as she was nervously balancing on her feet, not at all comfortable. He cleared his voice and mumbled an inaudible nod. He seemed to be taken aback, completely disarmed.

Will came back home a couple of hours later. Grace looked up at him. She was sat on the couch, reading some article in an interior design magazine. He took off his coat, hung it up and shook his head at his friend.

"It's over. I had no time to say the slightest thing. She cut me off and simply advanced that she wanted to draw a line under it."

These things happened for having waited for so long. He had lost her, definitely. Grace kept the remark for herself. She stood up and hugged him tight.

"I'm sorry."

Karen giggled, amused by Jack's dramatic gestures as soon as she put on a piece of clothing and they both looked at the result in the mirror.

"Damn, you're perfect. I wish I could fit in this one…"

"Honey, it's a dress."

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, falsely desperate.

"I know."

She shook her head then grabbed a satin top in silence. She was about to try it on when well-known voices flew over the thin velvet walls of the fitting room. She couldn't help overhearing.

_"_Angela, dearest, how are you?"

"I'm fine and you? I'm so looking forward to attending the party on Saturday."

"By the way, do you know who is coming?"

A few seconds of silence flew away. Obviously the woman was shaking her head, waiting for an explanation.

"Well, Karen Walker will be there."

Karen restrained a laugh and pointed at her reflection in the mirror, nodding and moving her lips in a quiet affirmation. She smiled brightly, delighted by the superficiality of gossip.

"Oh you must be kidding, she's not? Well, she's not afraid of ridiculousness. I mean, that Stanley cheating on her with his assistant's daughter is one thing and that even in jail he manages to screw someone else is just pitiful. Looks like she doesn't know how to keep a man faithful no matter the poor freedom the State is giving him right now! Isn't that pathetic? The woman in question is said to be working at the prison. What a decadence… Stanley Walker having his way with a whore; Karen probably needs a lesson or two about the art of keeping a man in her bed."

Her smile froze unless her heart stopped beating, perhaps both. She was staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror, not even seeing the slightest image. Jack was silent. Very slowly she looked down and cleared her voice. Her hair fell on her face.

"I think… I think…"

"Karen…"

She put her clothes back on and shook her head before smiling awkwardly at her friend.

"I don't think I'm going to take any of them."

She grabbed her bag and left, all smiles; no matter how it weighed on her heart.


	19. Moving on

**_Chapter eighteen_**

She grabbed the mug previously put down on the hardwood floor next to her; taking a sip. She felt lost in the immensity of the rooms. The sun was passing through the large windows that overlooked Central Park, caressing the expensive furniture in a controlled and perfect motion. She shook her head before the unfriendly sentiment and stood up suddenly, picking up her coat. A whole decade had passed by and she still didn't feel at home.

The door of the penthouse got slammed. She rushed out.

Will frowned and bent over, as well as Grace. Both friends were silent and confused before the sheet of paper the dark-haired woman had loudly slid on the table of the living-room.

"What is it?"

She shrugged as a timid but nonetheless determined smile began to play on her lips. Her hands were shaking and she tried to hide it by intertwining her fingers but it only emphasized her natural anxiety.

"It's a map of New Jersey."

Grace pointed at a red circle near the river, somewhere between Union City and North Hudson Park. Will gasped as every single element joined each other in his head until the solution appeared brightly. He stared at Karen.

"Oh my god, you bought the house?"

The little cottage; he remembered it perfectly well now. She had blushed and laughed heartedly while showing him the house she had grown up in on a rainy afternoon. It must have been a year ago or so, on the sailing boat. She nodded and bit her lower lip, taken away by the lightness of some logic.

"This is the place I belong to… I want to get a divorce. I'm so tired of everything."

"But you don't want to live in New Jersey, do you?"

Grace blinked at her friend in disbelief. She understood the bad patch Karen was going through but her reaction seemed to be exaggerated; she was the exact symbol of Manhattan and its cosmopolite charms.

"I don't know. There's a lot to do in it, a lot of work. It's been abandoned for fifteen years now and there's this big hole in the roof."

Her eyes were sparkling in delight under the description she was giving as if her mind had taken off and reached the other side of The Hudson. She smiled brightly and let a shy laugh escape.

"Besides it's not so far from Manhattan and there's still the pier. Perhaps I should consider it more as a pied-à-terre for the weekend. I need a small place to live in."

Her last sentence was so honest that she almost seemed to be pleading with her friends to accept what looked like the craziest idea she had ever happened to have.

Stanley never asked for an explanation or at least she assumed so because she didn't go back to the jail and didn't hear from him except for his signature at the bottom of the pages on which were stipulated her rights, all the things she had got from him. She found a one-bedroom flat in Morningside Heights and left the mansion with the only regret to have stayed there for too long.

Jack looked around at the place. The doors were wide open and there were cardboard boxes everywhere. Some scarves were hanging loosely on the couch as if they were trying to escape in a subtle way unless they were just supposed to represent a panel of colors and different fabrics from silk to wool. He let himself fall down on an armchair that had been put between the countertop of the kitchen and a couple of green plants.

"I don't understand where your bedroom is, Karen."

He motioned at the tiny flat in a dramatic gesture. She pressed a button on her washing-machine and sighed of satisfaction as water began to caress the plastic window.

"It's there."

Jack looked over her shoulder but the room she was pointing at behind the counter wasn't separated from the kitchen by a wall but a sort of small window. He shook his head.

"This is the dining-room."

"Then it will be there."

She made a few steps and twirled around in front of a fireplace but her friend was obviously in a picky mood. He pouted then scoffed.

"That's the living-room."

Loosing her patience she sighed, exasperated; furiously opened a box and began to take out her impressive collection of shoes.

"Well it has to be one of those two rooms because I'm not going to sleep in the kitchen or in the tub."

"Karen I know that things are a bit difficult right now…"

"Oh save it, Jack!"

She started storming out of the room but very soon found herself facing the narrowness of the flat. She stopped, looking all around for a safe escape. She headed to the designated dining-room and slammed the little window above the counter to get intimacy.

She closed her eyes, slid on the hardwood floor and bit her lips so hard that she felt the taste of blood invade her mouth. _You're not going to cry now._

The door opened and Jack made a few timid steps towards her. She looked up at him; her forehead leaned on the palm of her hand.

"We will have more money for Barney's if I live here and not in some palace suite."

He nodded and came to sit down next to her. She succumbed to the warmness of his hug, enjoying the tenderness of his act.

"But you're not going to move to New Jersey, are you?"

His question made her laugh and she shook her head at him, smiling brightly.

"Oh shut up, honey! Now help me to find the right room where I should sleep in."


	20. The place we belong to

**_Chapter nineteen_**

The leaf twirled in the sky with the lightness of a newly found freedom, enjoying a hopeful mood made of smiles and laughter; a time to start to live again. It seemed to fly higher, untouchable, so strong. But a corridor of wind put an end to the furtive joyful trip and the brown vegetal crashed on the ground, getting trapped in the damp asphalt as its pale color already announced the closure of its ephemeral existence.

Perhaps she wasn't that different from it and the strength she owned was only based appearances. Her fingers caressed the golden letters printed on the paper as a sigh escaped from her lips heavily. It would have been so easy to tear it into a thousand pieces then throw it away and pretend it had never existed. Why had her heart tightened though? Why could she not have been able to prevent herself from opening it and devouring the text with the avidity left by some withdrawal symptom? She closed her eyes, frustrated and ashamed. A truck passed in the street below; her cell phone rang. She put the envelop back in her bag and answered the call.

"I think she's suffering but not only because of Stanley's infidelity. She has lost control and is only now realizing it. Something happened in the past, an event that makes it impossible for her to accept the mere concept of failure; no matter she's not the one to blame. She needs to assume everything as if she had to prove to herself that she's mature enough to handle her life. But it didn't work out the way she had planned, not at all. And now she lives there, alone. And she hates that."

"I'm not the one she's expecting to take her in his arms."

"Yes you are. You're the closest one."

"No, I failed at that."

Grace opened her mouth to reply but Will cut her off with a vague motion of his hand. He shook his head and the door of the office flew open, revealing Jack and Karen. The conversation stopped.

She barely looked at Will and sat down at her desk then opened a bottle of deep red nail varnish. There was a time when it wasn't forced and things were going on their own; following a natural logic of a fake ignorance but it was before they ended up kissing then spent the night on the boat; before the bitter morning afterwards. They kept on living as if it had never happened but nobody was fooled and it wouldn't be the same anymore. Very slowly she looked up at him. She had touched his back, embraced his shoulders and got the taste of his skin on her lips. She knew what he looked like when he was naked, what kind of things drove him crazy. She had been a part of him and loved it.

He turned around; she looked down and blushed. Yes, she had been a part of him.

Karen clenched her fist and lifted it in the air but stopped as it was about to knock on the door. Her heart was pounding loud, way too much. Stifled voices seemed to come from the other side, behind the thick piece of oak. He was there; she knew he was. But for the twentieth time within a week she retreated backwards and left the office.

"Have a nice day, Mrs Walker."

Karen turned around and looked at the young woman she had seen so many times in the past; a brunette who reminded her of someone she might have been before plunging into the whirl of marriages.

"It's Delaney, Karen Delaney."

Stanley's assistant frowned then nodded, a bit perplexed. Obviously she hadn't been told about her boss's divorce. Marnie Herchman passed in the lobby and looked at Karen in disbelief, wondering what his best friend's ex-wife was doing there.

Karen bit the inside of her mouth and left.

Nobody had thought she would dare to come but the truth was that she was delighted by all those gazes on her, how they weighed ridiculously on her. She felt important but for the wrong purpose; a sort of cruel popularity from which she still managed to get some pleasure from, a nasty one. As soon as she entered a room, the conversations vanished in a whirl of astonished expressions and she moved forward, smiling brightly; feeling in the way.

The vodka slid along her throat tastelessly. She had had way too many drinks and the burning sensation left by the alcohol in the first place had ceased to be effective for a very long time. She moved on the sofa she was sat on but the lounge began to spin around. She blinked; passed her tongue over her dry lips. She was thirsty and incredibly sad.

She raised an eyebrow as Will sat down next to her but didn't say a word.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I got an invitation."

Her so-called evident tone sounded false, fragile and artificial. She couldn't manage to pretend that she didn't care at all because it was simply the reason why she had kept on breathing until now. Her index finger followed the curve of her knee over her black dress. Someone broke a glass in the background; another one burst out laughing. She only got to murmur.

"Is he here, with her? What does she look like? Does he seem happy?"

Will didn't reply. He grabbed a glass of Champagne instead and sipped it with awkwardness and discomfort as a bitter laugh escaped from her heart.

"Okay, I see."

"Damn Karen, why did you come here? These people are… I mean it's crazy."

"Oh I know, honey. I know them very well because I am a part of their world. This is the place I belong to. This is all I got to know."

A bright smile lit up her face through a motion of sincere despair and her eyes began to sparkle way too much. Her jaw was shaking but the tears didn't well up. She swallowed them back and raised her eyebrows.

"I might have drunk too much."


	21. Thanksgiving

**_Chapter twenty_**

He had fallen asleep while caressing her stomach, probably rocked by the monotone gesture; unaware of the shivers it had sent to her spine whenever his fingers had brushed the extreme sides of her skin. He had been extremely sweet, not worrying of the supposed awkwardness of their first time, inhabiting her own place with the easiness led by some logic, burying his face in the depths of her neck; a leg over hers. She wondered if it was the way he used to behave in the intimacy of his relationships or if by some crazy fantasy of hers, the moment had been unique, labeled under her name and nobody else's. She would have loved to get a light over all these questions but they had run out of time.

Was love different between two men? For some reason she saw it with less tenderness, less intensity. Did he love cuddling on a sofa in his lover's arms and let the day pass by slowly as the sun would decline in a warm caress over their faces? She narrowed her eyes and looked at them in silence. They were standing on the terrace, speaking; so close. Will's hand was resting over his acolyte's one in a natural motion. They seemed to be happy, relieved to have found each other in the immensity of a cruel world made of regrets and missed occasions.

She turned around and settled in a more comfortable position; her chin leaned on the palm of her hand. What was he saying? They hadn't spoken that much on the boat as if there had been no words to accompany the strangeness of the night they had shared ,with dignity. But she had loved their silence, a peaceful one. Will bent over and murmured to his friend's ear then laughed, very soon followed by the other man's bright reaction. She vaguely jumped on the couch, frowning. She felt in the way, incredibly jealous before the attention but an ounce of loud pride made its way to her heart and she straightened up, a smile playing on her lips. Will hadn't planted a kiss on the guy's earlobe as he had done to her under the multicolored fireworks. It might have been all she had kept from this moment but still, the gesture was assimilated to her and would always be.

"What are you looking at, miss curiosity?"

Grace's question put an end to the silent daydreams. The red-haired woman sat down next to her friend, glancing furtively at Will on the terrace. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I'm sure that his behavior isn't the same, Karen."

For a couple of seconds both women stayed silent, vaguely taken aback by the implicit comprehension of each other's wonders.

"He loves you."

"No he doesn't, honey. You can't love someone and leave as he did. I'm not a little girl anymore. I have learned a couple of things."

Karen's hazel eyes sparkled as a soft smile lit up her features. She seemed fine, a bit hurt maybe but calm.

Their couple might be a little dysfunctional but she loved Marilyn and George more than anything. They were the exact symbol of the family she had lost when her father had died and her mother hadn't been able to cope properly with the loss. They owned a real house, shared meals and went through arguments but a sparkling flame vaguely injured by the years was still there, connecting them in an eternal motion of love. She knew that she would never be a part of their family but who cared if she pretended so for an afternoon and felt happy?

"Oh Karen, darling, would you mind getting a bowl from the kitchen and put some more mashed potatoes in it? You're an angel, thank you."

Karen looked at Marilyn in disbelief, then turned her gaze towards Grace but her friend simply rolled her eyes and let Will's mother's disturbing politeness vanish in a sigh. You never knew when the woman crossed the lines and started abusing of her too bright smiles.

Karen stood up and left the dining-room, still astonished.

"Then it's not necessary for you to come tonight. Maybe it's better like that."

Will ended up the call but remained focalized on the red phone in the kitchen, troubled by the conversation he had just had. She made a few steps forward and cleared her voice. She hadn't meant to interrupt anything when obviously she had. He turned around and blinked at her. She shrugged.

"Your mother wants a bowl…"

"Oh, it's just behind you. Don't tell me that she mistook you for her maid."

Karen scoffed, squatting down to grab the item in a dresser.

"I'm pretty sure there's no maid on Earth who's wearing a pair of Chanel slingbacks."

She stood up quickly and let a scream escape as the top of her head hit an opened chest of drawers. She made a face as Will smiled and rushed to her, rubbing her head.

"You're okay?"

"Yeah, I am."

She rolled her eyes and laughed lightly before realizing that she was in his arms. His left hand had slid on her waist as the other had let go of her head to rest on her nape. She froze, scared of their sudden closeness. She hadn't touched him since the fourth of July, not even a furtive hug.

"Oh, Karen…"

Her heart began to beat faster as Will murmured her name and frowned. He looked hurt and terribly alone. She didn't close her eyes and stared in disbelief as he leaned over to capture her lips. He tightened his grip on her and she allowed herself to succumb. He pushed her against the dresser, her arms passed around his neck as they deepened the kiss. She was still holding the bowl, firmly clutched to it as if reality depended on it.

She felt it grow in her fingertips then reach her hands; run through her arms until her brain scanned the message and she pushed Will away. The tears were rushing to her eyes and so she looked down at the floor, desperately trying to swallow them back. She shook her head, whispered angrily at him.

"Go away, Will."

She was so tired.


	22. Something to remember

**_Chapter twenty-one_**

Karen rushed into the drugstore, a wave of wind and rain following her inside as the chimes started singing in the silence of the afternoon and she abandoned her improvised umbrella putting her coat back on her shoulders. She finally looked up and realized that the place was empty; nobody at the counter, just a row of broomsticks hanging behind the cashier and a million of products embracing the dust brought by the absence of customers. She cleared her voice and wandered through the shelves, narrowing her eyes. She had forgotten her glasses, hadn't even thought about her contact lenses and the gray of the sky seemed to have spread a veil over the daylight.

A wooden curtain moved. Karen jumped, surprised. She smiled politely at the woman coming from the storeroom.

"Would you like some tea? You need to warm up a little."

The salesperson lifted the mug she was holding in the air to accompany her question but Karen shook her head, trying to relax at the most and pretend so that her soaked wet clothes weren't a problem at all.

"Then what can I do for you? We're running out of shampoo, sorry. The delivery has been delayed."

Instinctively Karen touched her hair, blushing under the idea that a stranger could ever think that her hair was dirty or even worse greasy. She had no idea how critical people from New Jersey could be.

"I'm looking for candles. I need a lot of them. I'm doing some work at home and I don't have electricity yet. The natural light isn't very good today."

The woman smiled unless she sighed in relief. She moved from the counter and went straight to a little shelf lost among a whole collection of hammers. She grabbed a pack of forty small white candles before making a face.

"It's all we have, sorry."

"It's okay."

The woman had obviously no talent at all for business, apologizing for almost everything. Karen followed her to the counter and took out a twenty-dollar bill. A car passed in the street behind her as the tires slid on the damp asphalt in an odd melody, a sort of long and sensual crash. The money change got done in silence as the salesperson's insistent gaze began to trouble Karen. She looked down.

"Excuse me but…"

The woman leaned on the counter and narrowed her eyes as a dubitative smile lit up her face.

"For some reason you look like an old friend of mine who happened to live here a very long time ago… Her name was Karen, Karen Delaney. Is that you?"

It wasn't that she had a bad memory but she had learned through the years how to forget people's faces for constantly going away, moving out from town to town, over the frontiers. After a couple of deceptions she had understood that getting attached would never be that good. She nodded though, uncomfortably for not being able to recognize the woman who obviously knew her.

"Oh my god… I'm Miranda, Miranda Hopkins. Do you remember me? We were in school together. My father owns this store and we used to play here on Thursday afternoons when your mother had her pottery lessons."

Something happened at this moment in Karen's head, a sort of blackout followed immediately by the blurry image of a little girl's back, long curly black hair moving from right to left as she walked slowly, rocked by a sparkling laugh. Little by little the reminiscence became more precise and she pictured the background, the shelves of the store. Nothing had changed as if time had got suspended since she had left on a Sunday morning after the ground had swallowed her father's body.

She put a shaking hand over her mouth as silent tears ran down her cheeks. She had thought so many times that her childhood had been vain, empty.

For a few seconds Karen found herself in the impossibility to make the slightest move, barely breathe. As the air hit her lungs her voice caressed her throat and she managed a whisper.

"I'm so sorry I never wrote to you."

The chimes rang again a couple of hours after Karen's departure. Mechanically Miranda shut down the radio and left the storeroom. A heavy man smiled at her. He was wearing sunglasses, smoking a Cuban cigar. She looked over his shoulder; a limousine was waiting.

"Big tip for you if you tell me where Karen Delaney lives."

His chubby fingers slid a one-hundred-dollar bill on the counter. Miranda frowned, perplexed. She had only spoken to Karen for ten minutes, the required time to know that she had bought the house she used to live at and that she was working in Manhattan. The man nodded, doing his best to reassure her.

"I'm Karen's ex-husband. I've been told she would be here this weekend."

Still confused, Miranda abdicated though.

"Yes she is. Follow up the main street and when you see a path with a red mailbox then take it. The house is a small one, near The Hudson; overlooking Manhattan."

Stanley left and stepped back into the black limousine under Miranda's perplexity. The car hadn't driven off for ten minutes that the bus from Port Authority stopped in front of the drugstore and a man came in.

"Hi, I'm looking for Karen Delaney's house. Do you know where it is? She just bought it, a couple of weeks ago; black-haired woman, pretty short, high-pitched voice."

Miranda blinked and got hold of the counter, wondering how many men her old friend had married. She nodded and sighed, dropping out the slightest attempt to understand something.

"Yes I know who she is but the house is like ten miles away and it's raining. I suggest you to rent a bike as she actually did. There's no rental cars here."

Karen made a few steps backwards and looked at the hole in the wall. The living-room now had a breathtaking view over the skylines of The Upper West Side and the light had finally pierced throughout the house thanks to the large windows of the kitchen that overlooked the backyard. She jumped and let go of the hammer as someone knocked on the door. Her heart began to beat faster. She wasn't expecting anyone. Very slowly she made her way to the door; opened it then gasped.

"Stanley… What are you doing here?"

"Brooke, my assistant, told me you stopped by every day at the office. I never came to see you though."


	23. Far from Manhattan

**_Chapter twenty-two_**

When the wind joined the rain and he huddled up on his rented bike, Will swallowed back the last bit of spontaneity he would ever allow himself to have in the next decade. His clothes were soaked wet and his hands had turned into a bright red statue of iciness while the houses were speeding past on the road. If the weather had been sunny, he would have probably enjoyed what looked more like a seaside village than a suburb little town of New Jersey. The Hudson appeared timidly from time to time behind the pine trees, flirting with old wooden piers that the rain was making shine brightly, giving an untouchable aura to the place, that even the centuries would never be able to ruin.

Far ahead of him a small red form showed up. He rolled his eyes, sighing in relief then speeded up his pace. The woman holding the drugstore had mentioned a colorful mailbox belonging to Karen's house on the right of the road. The last trees stayed behind and Will took the path that led to the cottage he recognized immediately, no matter that he had only seen the other side until then; once, from the sailing boat. It took him half of the way though to notice the black limousine and Karen standing next to it. She had her arms crossed on her chest and was looking at the ground, nodding to Stanley who finally bent over and kissed her cheek. She didn't move; her lips firmly closed.

Stanley stepped into the car as Will slowed down to stop but a bit too abruptly and the old bike started shrieking. Karen looked up at him, astonished. She didn't pay attention to the limousine as it went away, coming back to the main road. When the dark windows of the backseats passed next to him, Will stared at them but they only reflected his own face, vaguely ravaged by the rain.

Without thinking twice he turned around and left too, shaking his head.

"Will, what are you doing?"

He heard Karen scream in his back and looked at her. She was running on the path after him as the umbrella she had been previously holding was rolling on the ground in front of the open door of the house. He stopped and waited for her.

"Why are you going away, honey?"

Her cheeks were red and she was breathless; soaked wet by the rain. She passed a hand through her hair to push it away then swallowed hard, raising her eyebrows.

"I didn't know you had some company."

His voice sounded blank and distant but Karen barely paid attention to it. She shrugged.

"I wasn't expecting him… What are you doing here?"

"I brought you something."

He reached for the blue navy rucksack and tended it to her. She opened it, confused; then scoffed and looked back at him angrily.

"You brought condoms? What were you thinking about? You didn't even use one when we…"

She blushed and made a vague gesture with her hand to complete her sentence before locking her eyes with his.

"I could have got pregnant, you know; or even worse, given you some STD. What do you know about me after all? And what do I know about you…"

Her last sentence vanished in her thought bitterly.

"I trust you enough to put none of us in danger."

His reply took her aback but she regained composure very quickly. Will grabbed the bag and looked in it, obviously embarrassed.

"I didn't bring condoms. I borrowed this rucksack to Grace so they must be hers. No, I came here to give you that. I thought you might enjoy a sip or two."

Karen blinked then frowned as Will took out a thermos. A smile began to play on her lips; she laughed.

"You came from Manhattan just to give me a plastic bottle?"

"It's Irish coffee. I assumed you would like some to give you strength while working on the house."

Karen closed her eyes and let the heat of the fireplace caress her face. The moon had already substituted the sun so she had lit every single candle, transforming the living-room into a singular chapel, empty but full of life; made of a thousand of memories. Will sat down next to her on the floor and tended her a mug of coffee.

"Thank you… Are you okay?"

He nodded and tightened his grip on the woolen shawl she had given him previously as his wet clothes were hanging somewhere upstairs, as well as hers though if she had thought about bringing another outfit, Will hadn't and all they had found was a large white t-shirt. He was probably freezing.

"We missed the last bus to Manhattan and the weather is too bad to take the sailing boat so unless you have some important thing to do tonight and you want to call a cab… You're trapped."

"It's okay. At least you won't be alone here."

She laughed bitterly and looked down then shook her head.

"Like I care…"

A heavy silence began to float above their heads until Karen felt the words leave her heart and make their way to her lips in a slow and painful motion.

"Why did you go away?"

Will sighed but didn't say a word. She put down her mug and looked back at the flames dancing high, bewitchingly.

"You hurt me, Will; that morning when I woke up and you had gone while telling me you would come back soon. Why did you do that? I wasn't looking for a charitable soul that would lend his arms to me for another lonely night but I wouldn't have asked you to marry me in the second…"

"This is exactly why I left, Karen. I had no choice. You were married to Stanley and were far from thinking about getting a divorce. And this situation didn't match with what I had always wanted to give you."

Karen turned around and looked at Will properly, astonished before his confessions but he cut her off, shaking his head; vaguely smiling.

"I never really understood your behavior towards me, all these kisses and… I suppose it wasn't clear for you either. And even though you were attracted to me, well you weren't about to leave Stanley so as much as you say you didn't want to play with me it's exactly how things would have turned out. I would have never been able to stay in the shadows. This is not the life I imagined for us."

Karen shivered uncontrollably. Wasn't it funny how a "us" could set off so strong feelings?

"Then why did you kiss me that night? You made the first step…"

"I was dying for the taste of your lips on mine."

Their whispers got stolen by the silence of the night and the intensity of their gazes; the fears wrapping up their hearts.


	24. Stifled beats

**_Chapter twenty-three_**

Will's remark made her blush and feel uncomfortable. She hated when men used to flirt with her and they always threw in a thousand of fake compliments in the middle of the conversation, getting drowned in lies with the only real aim to end up in bed with her. It's not that she didn't want to believe in romanticism but the spell had been broken way too often for her to remain genuinely happy. She had become distant with people's feelings.

She timidly jumped as his fingers brushed her chin but she didn't oppose any resistance. She let his hand guide her face, making her lock her eyes with his. She would have loved being able to fight and show to the entire world that she still had control over her acts but she had lost the supervision of her soul for a very long time. He leaned over, slowly. She closed her eyes, anticipating the warmness of his breath on her lips.

A phone rang in the background. Will stood up and went for his rucksack then took the call as she stayed on the floor, halfway between the immediate past and the harsh present that had stolen the butterflies flying loudly in her stomach a whirl of seconds. She blinked, shook her head and stood up. Will was leaning against a wall, talking softly to Grace who was obviously worried since he had said that he would be back in Manhattan in the evening but was still missing. Karen headed to the large windows through which the lights of The Upper West Side were glimmering in the dark.

They seemed so far from their actual routine. For a second she closed her eyes and wished nothing but to stay here with Will.

She was arranging the mattress in the tiny cabin of the sailing boat when he poked his head inside, phone in hand. She smiled at him with awkwardness, raising her eyebrows.

"There's no bed in the house so I'm afraid we will have to spend the night here. The waters are pretty calm anyway. I hope you won't get sick."

Her last remark seemed to trouble her a little and she made a few steps on a side, absent-mindedly caressing the horseshoe hung up on the wall with her fingertips.

She wasn't sure that it was a good idea. The place was the burning reminiscence of a deep failure, a painful one and while they had finally managed to speak about the fourth of July, it seemed that the night was repeating itself. She felt anxious, disarmed before the strength of time and the weight of some decisions she would have preferred to forget.

"It's going to be alright."

Will made a few steps forwards and opened the door of the little bathroom then stepped in it. She rushed under the blanket, took off her jeans; unbuttoned her cardigan. Her gestures lacked so much self-confident that she felt ridiculous. She wasn't fourteen anymore. She had shared a lot of beds with men, supervising everything with the determination of the adult she was; assuming her choices until the end. Why should it be different with Will especially when they had already reached a higher state of intimacy?

He stepped into bed and lie on his back. They stayed silent for a couple of seconds, staring blankly at the ceiling. She heard him take his breath, ready to speak. A wave of panic set off in her head and so she turned off the lights, whispered an embarrassed good-night before closing her eyes, clenching her fists; swallowing back her tears. The fireworks made their way to her head as a sentiment of loneliness invaded her heart when she pictured herself waiting for him the next morning, sat down on the deck. What if it ever happened again?

A stifled bump woke Will up the next morning. He opened his eyes and rolled on his back as the memories of the previous night slowly came back to him. Laughter made him jump and he realized that Karen wasn't in bed anymore. As soon as he opened the door of the cabin, a universe of white forms caressed his eyes and he couldn't help but gasp before the uniqueness of the scene. It had snowed, painting gray shades over The Hudson, wrapping up the sky-scrappers of The Upper West Side silently, purely. Someone approached behind; he turned around and looked at Karen who was smiling brightly. Her cheeks were red and she was shivering for only wearing her jeans and her cashmere cardigan but she had never seemed so happy. She ran towards him and twirled around, arms in the air as if she was ready to welcome another wave of white flakes.

"Look at this snow!"

Will came closer and passed an awkward hand around her waist. Her smile froze; she swallowed hard and raised an eyebrow.

"It's beautiful…"

Her remark sounded like a question drowned by her fears. She frowned and cleared her voice, unable to make eye-contact with him.

"Don't leave me now, Will."

He tightened his grip on her and leaned over. His lips were soft and warm and for a couple of seconds time seemed to get suspended. The birds stopped flying, the slightest sound vanished as her heartbeats calmed down and she succumbed to his kiss. With a shaking hand she traveled up his chest until the shapes of his neck slid under her fingertips and she came closer to him, molding her body against his.

She smiled in his mouth as they deepened the kiss. She had always known that he would come back to her one day, no matter how long it would take him to find his way to her arms but now he was finally there again, Karen swore to herself that she wouldn't let go of him anymore.


	25. Because at the end

**_Chapter twenty-four_**

His breath became regular and caressed her naked shoulders warmly, sending shivers to her spine. She smiled, serene. The snow had started falling again in a religious silence as life had slowed down respectfully before the white flakes like a slave who would bend down before his queen. She blinked and intertwined her fingers with his as in a subconscious motion he passed his leg over hers and tightened their embrace, his head resting in the depths of her nape. She could feel his whole body against her, the heat of his chest in her back. It sounded right, relieving.

She closed her eyes but instead of falling asleep the tears ran down her face. She swallowed back her sobs as the pain traveled from her heart to her lips. It was time to turn a page and she would have gladly done it but drawing a line under the missed occasions and the way she had ruined her life had invaded her mind; burnt her soul.

_I made so many mistakes that I could barely find enough time to tell them all before dying. Some of them are pardonable but a large part could have been avoided if I hadn't been so angry and stubborn. They left thousands of scars over my heart that subtly, from time to time, opened and let my blood escape painfully. I might keep on smiling as if nothing was happening but people should learn about my silences and if my eyes sparkle it's not always for feeling happy. I feel the urge to apologize because I've not been the only one hurt in the process and if things turn out as I think they will, then I want it to be clear. I'm not perfect and making compromises also requires an impressive amount of wisdom that I don't own. I'm a little arrogant, sarcastic but hopefully smart, funny. I know that men find me attractive but as soon as they can have me in their bed, the spell gets broken and I vanish in a whirl of laughter for me being so common. I had deceptions and unexpected joyful getaways. It's been unbalanced and a bit dark, cold. It was just a matter of time until I found, at last, the warmness of his arms and his honest smiles when he locks his eyes with mine. He doesn't need to speak, doesn't need to move; it's an implicit feeling that by some trick, I'm the only one for the simple reason that I love him._

Karen grabbed her coat and left the flat on her tiptoes as Will was still sleeping in bed. She hadn't emptied most of her cardboard boxes yet, but if you paid attention to the general mess, you could have noticed a couple of things that didn't belong to her but him; and a series of photographs that pictured The Hudson in the background while the brightness of their smiles reflected the peace of their hearts.

She stepped in the street and took a deep breath, a warm one. The sky was blue and the singular smell of spring was floating around in an invisible but bewitching motion. She plunged her hands in the pockets of her coat and headed lightly to the open store at the corner of the avenue. It was still early in the morning, the streets were empty as if for once New York was really resting.

She passed the door and wandered with awkwardness between the shelves until the dreaded moment finally occurred. She looked at the woman behind the counter; her heart was beating fast.

_I can't promise you a perfect world, safe from any kind of pain. All I own is the love I can give you, my arms and a couple of reassuring murmurs. It's not enough but still better than nothing. It's all about adaptation and if having dreams is allowed you don't have to lose the main lines, the fact those beautiful ideas only belong to blurry fantasies, untouchable ones. I'm scared, not prepared at all. I know it will be unique but please, accept my apologies if I ruin some things on the road; by accident. All I can say is that I wish nothing more than to make you smile and understand why you came into my life one day. You were meant to be, like all the rest I'm going through now; Will._

She paid and grabbed her brown paper bag quickly, making it disappear in the depths of her pocket as if led by a prohibited action. Her eyes went from right to left and she finally turned towards The Hudson, leaving Morningside Park behind. She needed to see the waters and the green lawn of New Jersey on the other side of the river just to remember that whatever happened, there was a place she belonged to even though she had gone away from it for so long. _Let's just put it in my mistakes._

A jogger passed in front of her; she sat down on a bench as the traffic on Riverside Drive became dense in her back but she was way too far to get troubled by it. Something was happening in her heart, her whole body; a change of wind.

She would come back home a couple of hours later and put her thoughts into parenthesis then let the day guide her in Will's arms. The sun would go down and she would hold her breath, crossing her fingers while the uncertainty of her wish would still float above her head; and the perpetual question oppressing her brain cells, what if…?

It would never be the same.

With a shaking hand she grabbed the stick, blinking at it in astonishment. At eight o'clock in the evening Karen learnt that the test had turned positive. She closed her eyes and smiled because at the end, she knew it was the way it had always had to be; with Will.

* * *


End file.
